


Only to the Wind

by blueruin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:04:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueruin/pseuds/blueruin
Summary: Written for the prompt: "Zayn's going home for the holiday break and can't stand to spend another month-long visit with his family pestering him about why he's single. He knows his best friend Harry is probably going to stay on campus throughout the entire break so he asks, no begs, him to be his fake boyfriend for just one month to get his family off his back."





	Only to the Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zarrents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarrents/gifts).



> Thank you for such interesting prompts! I tweaked this one a little bit, but I hope you'll like how it turned out.
> 
> Also, thank you to the moderator for organizing this fic fest and letting me be a part of it. I had a blast.
> 
> Here’s a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/yaygeometry/playlist/2FaHxkET2guevilUIZYmLF?si=gCvkFOfsTreTYRULhyHdeA) featuring songs that fit the story, as well as some that have been mentioned throughout the fic. This includes Stevie Wonder’s “Knocks Me Off My Feet,” which plays an important role and provides the title of the fic. The subtitles on the fake film screencaps below were also lifted from the song.
> 
>   
> 

10.

“Are you sure about this?” Zayn asks for the nth time.

Harry lets out a dramatic sigh. “Yes, Zayn, I’m sure. Now, can we please go?”

Zayn tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white and his right thumb tapping in a frenzied rhythm. “You can totally say no. I won’t be mad, I promise. I’ll just figure out an excuse on my way home.”

Harry studies Zayn’s face carefully. His godforsaken face is perfect, of course, there’s no denying that. But his brows are furrowed and there are dark circles under his eyes. Zayn tries to flash him a reassuring smile, and Harry notices teeth marks on his bottom lip from biting on it too much. He wants to kiss it. Harry wants to kiss him senseless until he forgets to be nervous. But that will only make things worse.

Instead, he places his hand gently on Zayn’s lap to try to stop his leg from bouncing up and down like crazy. “Zayn, I want to do this. I want to help you. There’s nothing for you to worry about, okay? We can do this. I know we can.” He waits for Zayn to look at him before he flashes him a smirk. “Besides, your family already loves me, so this saves us both from a traumatizing experience.”

Zayn exhales a laugh before closing his eyes and leaning against the headrest. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“Hey,” Harry says with a squeeze on Zayn’s shoulder. “You have no reason to be nervous. I’ve got you.”

Zayn turns his head to the side to look at Harry. “I know.”

“So, trust me. I can charm the pants off anyone, even your 398 relatives. You’ll see.” Harry punctuates his statement with a wink.

Zayn snorts. “I bet you can.”

“We can do this, Zayn,” Harry assures him. “I’ll be the best fake boyfriend ever.”

Zayn places his hand gently on top of Harry’s. “Thanks, babe.”

“You’ll do the same for me, right?” Harry asks after a beat of silence passes. “I mean, if I ever need anything - no matter how ridiculous it is – you’ll help me out, won’t you?”

“In a heartbeat,” Zayn replies, squeezing his hand.

Harry smiles as he wills his heart to settle. “Then let me do this for you. You can just pay me back later.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively for effect.

Zayn chuckles as he starts the car. “Fine. You ready?”

“Hold on.” Harry plugs in his phone and selects the playlist he created specifically for this trip. He waits for the opening notes to “Thunder Road” by Bruce Springsteen before he says, “Now, I am. Let’s go, lover.”

“Please don’t call me that in front of my family.”

“Darling?”

“Nope.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Please, no.”

“How about The Boss?”

“I’m starting to regret this now.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Maybe just a little bit.”

“Oh, please. You love me.”

“And I’m still wondering why.”

“Someday you’ll realize that I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“What do you mean, someday? I already know that you are.”

Harry’s heart ricochets off the walls of his ribcage. Zayn just said it casually, as if he was simply stating a fact. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, babe,” Zayn says without hesitation. He flashes him that annoying smile he does with the crinkled eyes and his tongue between his teeth. It’s adorable and attractive as fuck, which is proof of his complete disregard for Harry’s well-being.

_Fuck._ “Okay then.”

Harry tries to keep it together as they lapse into a companionable silence. Zayn turns to look at him and smiles. Harry leans his head against the window and smiles back. They tend to do this a lot – just basking in the quiet delight of being in each other’s presence.

He tries to focus on Bruce Springsteen’s gravelly voice, but his brain keeps playing Zayn’s words on loop. His heart is beating at an alarming pace and he wonders, briefly, if Zayn can hear it over the music. Their silences are never awkward or uncomfortable, but Harry’s brain keeps giving him ideas that could make things even more complicated than they already are. So he just sits there, in the passenger seat of Zayn’s old car, unmoving but perpetually falling.

“Hey, Harry?”

“Yes, Zayn?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry watches as Zayn’s grip on the steering wheel loosens and his body relaxes. Zayn shuts his eyes for a moment then takes a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “I am now.”

“Good. Now for the love of all things holy, can we please go? You’re kind of ruining my road trip playlist.”

Zayn exhales a laugh as he starts to drive. “Yes, your highness.”

Harry’s eyes light up. “Ooh, I like that. You should call me that more often.”

“You wish.”

“How about pamplemousse?”

“What the hell is a pamplemousse?”

“It’s French for grapefruit.”

“Okay?”

“Can I call you pamplemousse?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a great fruit!”

“Get out of my car.”

“Zayn.”

“Harry.”

“Please? I’ll say something like, ‘Want some juice, Pamplemousse?’ and you’ll giggle, and I’ll kiss you on the cheek, and everyone will go ‘Aww, they’re so cute,’ and they’ll believe in true love, and your mom will finally stop nagging you about being single. That’s what you want, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think that stupid nicknames were part of the deal.”

“They’re always part of the deal, Zayn. Besides, it’s fun. So, can I call you pamplemousse?”

“Absofruitly not.”

Harry gasps. “Zayn, you made a joke!”

Zayn shoots him a sideways glare.

“Fine, then. I’ll think of a better one.”

“You do that.”

 

3.

Zayn stares at the clock on his bedside table, willing the hands to move a little bit quicker. Harry’s supposed to call in a few minutes, and he doesn’t want to miss it.

They’re on summer break, and Zayn is getting antsy. Usually, he doesn’t mind being cooped up indoors for several days. In fact, he prefers it. But lately, he’s been feeling restless. Maybe it’s his mom’s constant need to set him up with the nearest available girl, or his own irrepressible urge to impress his dad. Or maybe it’s the unforeseeable future that eats away at him and fills him with distress. Whatever it is, he’d like it to stop, please.

One thing that calms him down is talking to Harry. They’ve been friends for a while now, and they seem to have quickly picked up on each other’s moods and habits. Harry doesn’t always know what to say, but he manages to distract Zayn from his own thoughts with bad jokes and inane stories.

Unfortunately, Harry’s too busy spending time with every other person in the universe other than Zayn. Ever the social butterfly, Harry craves company and attention. He’d probably spontaneously combust if he was left alone for a long period of time.

Harry does call every other night – just like he promised. They agreed to take turns calling each other over the break, and they even came up with their own punishments in case one of them forgets to do so. Sometimes the call ends after only a few minutes, other times it goes on for hours. It doesn’t matter how long the call lasts; Zayn’s mood instantly perks up as soon as he hears Harry’s syrupy drawl over the phone.

As if on cue, Zayn’s phone rings. “Thank-fucking-Christ.”

_“Well hello to you, too,”_ he hears Harry say.

“Sorry.”

_“It’s okay. What did you do today?”_

“Ate samosas and finished _His Dark Materials_.”

_“You read them again?”_

“I left my new books in your room.”

Harry snorts. _“Of course you did. I’ll bring them over tomorrow.”_

“What about you? What did you do?” Zayn asks.

_“Went with Gemma to a party at her friend’s house. It was a riot.”_

“You had fun?”

_“It was okay. Would have been more fun if you were there.”_

“Mom’s setting me up on a date again,” Zayn tells him with a frustrated sigh.

_“Really?”_ Harry asks after a beat of silence.

“It’s annoying, but I know she means well.”

_“She just worries about you.”_

“I’m still in high school, though. Shouldn’t parents be elated that I’m choosing my studies over dating?”

_“She probably just doesn’t want you to be lonely.”_

“I’m not lonely!” Zayn exclaims. “Besides, I’ve got you.”

A few seconds pass before he hears Harry cough on the other end of the line.

“You okay?” Zayn asks, worried.

_“Yeah,”_ Harry assures him. _“So, what are you up to tonight?”_

“I just started watching  _10 Things I Hate About You_.”

_“Ooh, what part are you at? I’ll watch it with you. If I can find my DVD. Oh wait, there it is!”_

“You’re not tired?”

_“No. Besides, when have I ever skipped out on watching_ 10 Things I Hate About You _?”_

“Hurry up, then. Patrick just arrived.”

_“Okay, here we go.”_

“‘Patrick Verona. I see we’re making our visits a weekly ritual,’” Zayn says at the same time as Allison Janney in the film.

_“‘Only so we can have these moments together,’”_ Harry quotes back with a pathetic attempt at mimicking Heath Ledger’s Australian accent.

Zayn bursts into laughter. “That was actually better than the last time.”

_“Whoever gets a car first should name it after one of the characters,”_ Harry says apropos of nothing.

“You mean, you’ll name your car after one of the characters. You know I don’t drive.”

_“Not yet. But I’ll teach you.”_

“What if I’m unteachable?”

_“You’re not. And I’m a good teacher. Soon, you’ll be pestering me to go on weekend drives and road trips.”_

“Fine. I’ll get a red one and call it Katarina.”

_“Mine will be blue and named Patrick.”_

“You sure you don’t want to call it Bogey or Bratwurst?”

Harry’s loud cackling hurts Zayn’s ear, but it doesn’t matter because it warms him up and fills him with ease.

 

11.

“Okay, gas station,” Harry announces when he spots the sign. “I’ll get the snacks while you feed Katarina.”

“None of that healthy crap, okay?” Zayn says as he turns off the engine. “Get some actual road trip food.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Junk food and carbonated drinks, got it.”

“Thanks, babe.”

It’s just something he says, Harry tries to convince himself. He knows it’s just something he says. But his heart doesn’t know that. It leaps to his throat in excitement every time Zayn calls him _babe_ offhandedly. Harry knows it doesn’t mean anything, but he can’t help the sliver of hope that flickers every time Zayn says or does something. He knows it’s a problem. But he doesn’t know what to do about it. Nor does he want to do anything to stop it.

“I’m pathetic,” Harry mutters to himself. He shakes his head furiously to clear it as he heads over to the convenience store.

Harry grabs a basket, which he quickly fills with Zayn’s prerequisite road trip food: cheese puffs, chocolate bars, potato chips, soda, and an assortment of sour candy. He adds trail mix and protein bars for himself, then grabs a couple of bottles of water.

After paying for his purchases, he finds Zayn leaning against the car and talking to somebody on the phone.

“-in a couple of hours,” he hears Zayn say. “I know. We’ll be there in time for dinner. Yeah, he’s here. You want to talk to him?” Zayn trades his phone for the paper bag of junk food that Harry’s been holding and mouths “Mom” to let him know who’s on the other end of the line.

Harry nods in acknowledgment. “Hi, Trisha.”

_“Hello, love. I can’t wait for you to spend the holidays with us!”_

“Me, too. Thank you for inviting me.”

_“Of course. You’re practically family. Just tell Zayn to drive safely, okay?”_

“I will. See you soon!”

_“Bye, love.”_

Harry returns Zayn’s phone then slides back into the car. “Your mom sounds excited.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says before he turns on the engine.

Harry pinches his bottom lip with his fingers. “I feel kind of bad about lying to her.”

Zayn sighs. “I know. Me, too.”

“So, we’ll just have to sell it. This is for her benefit, right?” Zayn nods in response. “We’re doing this so she won’t worry about you being alone and lonely. So, we’ll just have to convince everyone that you’re not because you’re with me.”

“That’s true, though.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not alone and lonely because I’m with you, silly.” Zayn bumps his shoulder against his. He says it so casually, completely unaware of his effect on Harry.

“Oh, well…” Harry trails off because what the fuck is he supposed to say to that?

They lapse into silence just as “Ventura Highway” by America begins to play. Harry believes that some songs need air and should be listened to with the windows rolled down. This was such a song.

As if reading his mind, Zayn lowers the car windows. Harry stares at him in awe.

Zayn gives him a sideways glance. “What?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nothing.” He sticks his arm out of the window, letting the wind caress his skin.

Zayn slaps him on the shoulder. “Stop doing that.”

“Fine,” Harry says with a ridiculous pout. Zayn just rolls his eyes at him. “You know we have to sing along to the chorus, right?”

“No, we don’t have to do anything.”

“Oh, come on. You know you want to.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Oh, please.” Harry pokes him repeatedly on the shoulder. “Here it comes.”

Zayn snorts. “That’s what he said.”

Harry ignores him in favor of belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs. “‘Ventura Highway in the sunshine, where the days are longer, the nights are stronger than moonshine. You’re gonna go, I know.’”

Zayn joins in soon after, much to Harry’s delight. “‘Cause the free wind is blowing through your hair. And the days surround your daylight there. Seasons crying no despair. Alligator lizards in the air. In the air.’”

He gets lost in the song that Zayn doesn’t realize he’s dancing to it. His head is bopping with the beat, his shoulders are swaying from side to side, and his fingers are tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel. Zayn never dances. At least, not consciously. And certainly not outside, where people can see.

It startles Harry so much that he lets out a loud chuckle. He slaps a hand to his mouth to keep Zayn from hearing it, but he does it a second too late. Zayn immediately stops moving then shoots Harry a sideways glare.

Harry exhales a laugh. “I’m sorry! I was just surprised, that’s all. You can go back to dancing now.”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. You were enjoying yourself. Come on, let me see you sway your shoulders to the beat.”

Zayn slaps him on the chest. “Stop it.”

“Ow!” Harry exclaims, rubbing his chest. He starts to laugh again, his face falling forward until his forehead hits the glove compartment. “Fuck!”

It causes Zayn to laugh, which makes Harry laugh harder until they’re both collapsing into a fit of giggles. Zayn pulls over to the side as they try to get themselves under control. They sit there in silence for a few minutes before Harry opens the door and steps out of the car.

“Where are you going?” Zayn asks.

Harry motions for Zayn to join him outside. “Come on. Grab the food.”

Zayn turns off the engine then steps out with the paper bag of groceries in tow. Harry sits on the hood of the car then pats the space beside him. Zayn places the paper bag between them then rummages around to grab two cans of soda and a bag of cheese puffs.

“You still nervous?” Harry asks.

Zayn opens a soda can then hands it to Harry. “No.”

“Good.” Harry takes a sip of his drink. “We should probably talk about details, though. Like, when did we start dating? How did it happen in the first place?”

“Let’s just say that this is fairly new,” Zayn says carefully. “Something just clicked, and we decided to try it.”

Harry nods, as he stuffs a handful of cheese puffs into his mouth to prevent himself from saying something that could get him into trouble.

“You know I-” Zayn starts to say.

“I know,” Harry cuts him off, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“Good. Because I do-”

“Me, too.”

It’s quiet for a while, save for the sound of cars driving past and Zayn’s low humming. If it wouldn’t make things complicated, Harry would choose this moment to tell Zayn. But he doesn’t want to ruin it. And he doesn’t want to lose his best friend.

So, he says nothing.

“Did I tell you about this dream I had, where I was stuck on a deserted island and all I had was a pack of sour glow worms?” Zayn asks. “It was odd. I woke up in the middle of the night with an overwhelming craving for them, but I kept forgetting to buy some.”

“Check the bag,” Harry tells him before taking another sip of his drink.

Zayn rummages around in the paper bag until he sees a pack of sour glow worms. He chuckles as he opens the bag, carefully selects a piece, then pops it into his mouth. “How come you always know what I want before I even realize it for myself?”

Harry flashes him a smug smile. “Magic.”

“You already dress like a witch, anyway.”

“Hey!”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, babe.”

“Well, you’re probably the only one who knows me better than I do.” Harry steals a piece of candy from Zayn and pops it into his mouth. “So that’s some kind of sorcery, too.”

“Nah. That’s just called paying attention.” Zayn grins at him. “You want to drive?"

Harry nods enthusiastically. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night. Figured I should take a nap.”

“Excuse me! You will not fall asleep on me!”

“You’re so needy.”

“You’ve known this about me before you asked me to be your fake boyfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah. But I get to drive again later.”

“Fine.”

Zayn takes the car keys out of his pocket then hands them to Harry. “Let’s stay here for a little while.”

“Yes, please,” Harry says, as he rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder.

They stay like that for a few minutes – not saying another word, just enjoying each other’s company. Soon, they’ll get back in the car, and Harry will talk Zayn’s ear off as he drives so he won’t fall asleep. Zayn will then drive them to his house, where they will be interrogated by Zayn’s family about their pretend relationship, and they’ll have to spin a web of lies to appease them.

For now, they have this. They have this moment, and Harry relishes every bit of it.

 

4.

Zayn parks the car – _his car_ – for the first time on Harry’s driveway. He honks the horn once and waits impatiently for Harry.

True to his word, Harry spent about two weeks teaching Zayn how to drive. The first day was a disaster. Zayn was such a nervous wreck that he panicked every time he saw a random person walking towards the general direction of the car. He was so terrified of running someone over that he refused to move and eventually burst into tears after about a half an hour inside the car. Harry had to buy him ice cream to make him feel better.

He was more relaxed on the second day, but he hurled a different expletive every time he made a turn or saw someone walking towards the car.

In the end, he got the hang of it. It was probably due to Harry’s patience more than his actual teaching skills that really helped Zayn. Most people would have given up on the first day, when he was rendered catatonic by his fear. Or they would have been offended by all the obscenities he angrily uttered on the second day. But not Harry. He just knew what Zayn needed to learn, which was a fuckton of patience.

They took odd jobs and saved up their allowances so they can each buy a car. Just as he promised, Harry got himself a blue one and named it Patrick.

Zayn needed a bit more time to save up, but with a little help from his dad, he was finally able to buy a secondhand car – only slightly used, but with an excellent price. He loves it with every fiber of his being.

Finally, Zayn sees the front door open and a shocked Harry comes into view.

“Holy shit, Zayn!” Harry exclaims, as he bolts from the door to the driveway. He carefully runs his hand along the side of the car. “She’s so red and shiny.”

Zayn grins at him. “Harry, meet Katarina, the love of my life.”

“Hello, Katarina. You’re beautiful.”

“You want to go for a drive?”

“Absofuckinglutely.”

They get in the car and Zayn drives around aimlessly – but really fucking carefully, because he doesn’t want to wreck it on the first day.

“Pull over,” Harry says after about a half an hour of driving around with no specific destination in mind.

“Why?” Zayn asks.

“Look, there’s a yard sale,” Harry replies, pointing towards the direction of a house with a few people milling around the driveway. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

They walk towards the yard and look around at all the tables laden with odds and ends.

Zayn’s leafing through an old issue of MAD magazine when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to see Harry with his eyes lighting up in excitement. “Having fun?”

Harry nods. “There’s a ton of good stuff out here. You should pick out something for me.”

“Only if you’ll do the same for me.”

“Duh. I already saw something I know you’d like.”

Zayn snorts. “I never thought I’d hear you say ‘duh.’” Harry sticks his tongue out at him. “Nothing too expensive though, okay?”

Harry runs off without giving Zayn a reply. Zayn busies himself with trying to find something for Harry. After a few minutes of looking around, he trips on a skateboard and lands on his ass on the ground. He spies a few wooden crates underneath the table and thanks the universe when he sees vinyl records in excellent condition.

Zayn flicks through the selection and thanks his lucky stars when he finds the one record that Harry’s been planning to get. He pays for it, then looks around for Harry. He spots him hunched over a box of toys. “There you are.”

Harry looks up then shoves a scary-looking doll in his face. “Cabbage Patch dolls are the creepiest things I’ve ever seen on this yard sale.”

Zayn snatches the doll and puts it back in the box. “I saw a creepy ass painting of a woman with eyes that seemed to follow me everywhere.”

“Did you buy it?”

“Fuck no.”

“So, you ready?” Harry asks, standing up and cradling a plastic bag close to his chest.

Zayn nods, hiding his purchase behind his back. “After you.”

They walk back to the car and decide to get ice cream cones before driving back to Harry’s house.

“Open it,” Harry orders, shoving the plastic bag on Zayn’s lap as soon as they pull up at his driveway.

Zayn opens the bag and takes out a hardcover book bound in a beautiful burgundy cloth with gold lettering on the spine. “Why does this look expensive?”

“Because it’s a first edition! With both _Northanger Abbey_ and _Persuasion_ in one volume.” Harry says excitedly. “The guy, Xander, gave me a good deal so it wasn’t that expensive.”

“Thanks for this, babe. Really.” Zayn traces the gold lettering with his finger. “But you know I already have copies of these books.”

“I know,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “But this one’s a first edition. And your copies had notes on the margins.”

“They’re my notes!”

“But this would look lovely displayed on your bookshelf.”

“That’s true.”

“Now, it’s my turn,” Harry says, making a grabby motion with his hands.

Zayn chuckles as he hands him his present. He hears Harry gasp when he sees what it is.

“Zayn! Shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Harry cradles his copy of Stevie Wonder’s _Songs in the Key of Life_ close to his chest. “I love it. We have to listen to it.” He opens the door and hurries out of the car.

“What, right now?” Zayn asks.

“Right now, Zayn. Come on!” Harry takes his hand and drags him to his house. They run up the stairs to Harry’s room then plop down on the floor. Harry carefully slides the vinyl out from its sleeve and puts it on the record player, which he received as a birthday gift from his stepfather.

They lie side by side on Harry’s bedroom floor, listening to every song on the album.

“This one’s my favorite,” Harry whispers as the opening notes to “Knocks Me Off My Feet” begin to play.

“Mine, too,” Zayn whispers back. He must have heard it a hundred times already. His dad always said that it was one of his favorite songs. But there, on the floor, with Harry, it feels like he’s listening to the song for the first time.

Harry rolls onto his side with his arm under his head. “Thank you.”

Zayn turns his head to the side to face Harry and flashes him a smile. “You’re welcome.”

 

14.

“Maybe you should do up one more button.”

“How dare you.”

“Please?”

“Fine.” With a sigh, Harry does up an extra button on his black silk shirt. “Happy?”

“Nauseous, actually,” Zayn says with his head in his hands. “I think I might throw up.”

“Probably because of all the junk food you ate.”

“Or because I’m about to go in there and lie to my family?”

“Hey.” Harry gently takes Zayn’s hands and rubs comforting circles against them with his thumbs. “Breathe.” Zayn closes his eyes and takes deep breaths. “You’ll be fine. I’ve got you.”

Zayn nods. “Ready?”

Harry grins at him. “Sure am, strawberry jam.”

“I’m gonna die,” Zayn mutters to himself.

Harry bursts into laughter. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself.” Zayn glares at him. “I promise, no more cutesy nicknames or terms of endearment.”

Zayn opens his door then slides out of the car. He’s about to slam the door shut when he notices that Harry still hasn’t moved from his spot. Zayn pokes his head back in the car. “What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for my boyfriend to open the door for me,” Harry says sweetly while batting his eyelashes at him.

Zayn shakes his head in frustration as he walks over to Harry’s side to open the door for him. “You’re insufferable.”

Harry pinches Zayn on the cheek. “And you’re the best boyfriend ever.” He laughs when Zayn glares at him for the nth time today. “Zayn, relax. Just think of it as any other family gathering, but with me by your side. We’ll exchange pleasantries, we’ll drink, we’ll laugh, we’ll eat, we’ll hold hands, maybe we’ll even kiss, then the night’s over, and we’ll be done for the day.”

He sees the corner of Zayn’s mouth twitch, as if he’s trying his damn hardest not to smile. “Kissing, huh?” Zayn smirks at him. “‘Kissing isn’t what keeps me up to my elbows in placenta all day long.’”

Harry chuckles. “Quoting _10 Things_ again. You must be feeling better.”

“Loads.” Zayn kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

Harry takes a second to compose himself while Zayn grabs their bags. He rearranges the flowers he bought from the shop they passed by on the way and grabs the bottle of wine he brought as a hostess gift. Harry takes his duffel bag from Zayn then smiles brightly at him. “Ready?”

Zayn, wonderfully, smiles back. “Ready.”

 

2.

“How do I look?” Harry asks as soon as they stop in front of Zayn’s front door.

Zayn looks at him from head to toe. “Like a lamb to the slaughter.”

“You’re a little-” Harry gets cut off as the front door opens and Zayn’s parents come into view. “Oh. Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Malik.”

“Hello, dear,” his mom greets Harry cheerfully. “Sorry for startling you.”

“You were taking too long,” his dad chimes in. “Your mom was getting impatient.”

Zayn chuckles. “Mom, Dad, this little lamb is Harry.”

Harry glares at him before he puts on a big smile for Zayn’s parents. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Thank you for inviting me over.”

His mom beams at Harry. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Harry. Please call me Trisha.” She gestures towards Zayn’s dad. “And this little lamb is Yaser.”

They laugh as his parents usher them in with hugs and kisses.

“This is for you,” Harry says, offering a pie pan to Trisha. “It’s a blueberry pie.”

“You baked this?” Trisha asks as she takes it out of Harry’s hands.

“His mom did,” Zayn interjects.

“I helped!” Harry counters.

Trisha kisses Harry on the cheek. “Well, thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

Harry flashes one of his trademark smiles that always seem to disarm people. “We were happy to do it.”

“You’re a lovely boy, aren’t you?” Trisha says before turning to Zayn and patting him gently on the cheek. “You should show Harry your room, love. Then come back down, okay? Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Zayn grabs Harry’s bag and leads him upstairs to his room. He gets nervous as soon as he gets to the top of the stairs. Zayn thinks he should have cleaned up more. Maybe the sight of his black walls, collages, and comic books will drive Harry away. If not that, then something else will make him regret coming over.

“Are you ever going to open the door?” Harry asks, breaking his train of thought.

“Sorry,” Zayn mutters before finally opening the door to his bedroom.

Harry looks around in awe. “They let you paint your walls black?” Zayn nods in response. “Cool!” He stops by his wall of drawings and collages. “These are really good.”

“Thank you,” Zayn says quietly. He leans against his closed door, watching Harry as he looks around his bedroom.

“Wow, you have so many books.”

“I like to read.”

“I know.” Harry winks at him as he plops down on Zayn’s bed and grabs the remote. “Let’s see what movie you last watched.” He presses play then lets out a loud chuckle as _10 Things I Hate About You_ comes on screen.

“What?” Zayn asks.

“This was exactly what I was watching last night.” Harry pauses the film to look up at Zayn. “‘I'm down, I've got the 411, and you are not going out and getting jiggy with some boy—I don't care how dope his ride is.’”

“‘My momma didn't raise no fool!’” Zayn quotes back as he laughs.

“I know there’s a lot of other movies out there, but I just keep coming back to this one.”

“Same.”

“So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“Dinner, dessert, then there’s this movie that Safaa insists on seeing – I don’t know what it is yet. Then we’ll come back here, and you get to choose what to do next.”

“I think I want to watch this again.”

“Then we’ll do that.”

Harry smiles at him. “Thanks for inviting me over.”

“Thank you for wanting to come over,” Zayn lets it slip before he could stop himself.

Harry stares at him as he tilts his head to the side, taking in what Zayn said and analyzing it. “This won’t be the only time.”

Zayn has no idea what to say so he just goes, “Yeah?”

Harry nods, getting up from the bed to stand beside Zayn. “I’m needy. I’ll probably want to come over often. You won’t be able to get rid of me now.”

A surge of warmth spreads throughout Zayn's body. It’s a weird but not entirely unwelcome feeling. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he knows that he wants more of it.

Zayn doesn’t have friends or sleepovers. He likes to keep to himself and hang out with his family. But there’s something about Harry that makes him want to tell him things and share a part of his life with him. Zayn has never shared anything with anyone before other than his family. Nor does he have any interest in doing so. But somehow, he feels like he can with Harry. Not only that, but he actually wants to share something with him. It’s terrifying but also comforting.

“Yeah?” Zayn asks again.

“Yeah,” Harry repeats, still with that disarming smile on his face. “We’re friends, right?”

Zayn smiles back. “Friends.”

 

5.

It’s after the fifth day of waking up to Zayn’s 3 A.M. text that Harry realized he’s screwed.

Harry loves sleep. He really does. And he can sleep anywhere – couch, bathroom floor, dining table, gym closet, front porch, math class. Sleep is one of his favorite things in the whole world. Anyone who disrupts his slumber immediately gets in his bad graces.

Lately, Zayn’s been stressing out about school and college applications and his future. He takes everything so seriously because he’s determined to graduate high school with flying colors, get into a good university, and make his parents proud. Zayn spends most of his days focused on his classes and school paper duties, while he spends his nights working on his assignments and studying. He doesn’t get enough sleep, which worries Harry to no end.

So when Zayn sent him a text around three in the morning asking if he’s awake, he said _yes_ to keep him company. They sent messages back and forth for about an hour before Zayn sent him a text saying _thanks babe u can go back to sleep now_.

After that, Harry changed his text tone to the loudest setting possible just so he could wake up as soon as Zayn sends him another message. They talk about random things: desert island lists, endangered species, the brilliance of _The Mummy_ , their conflicting feelings about Roald Dahl’s _Esio Trot_ , flowers, donuts, Greek mythology, Shakespeare’s filthy jokes, bucket lists, graffiti, cartoons, dreams, love, life, death. Harry’s exhausted and in need of coffee in a vat every morning, but he still woke up every time Zayn needed him.

So yes, he’s fucked, because he would never do that for anyone. He would never think that someone was brilliant just because they write little notes on the margins of every book. Nor would he be impressed with someone who can put on a leather jacket and make everything look like a damn magazine editorial. He would never love the word _scintillate_ just because of the way someone says it, nor would his heart leap to his throat every time someone utters his name.

But at some point, Harry stopped lying to himself and accepted the fact that he’s endlessly soft for Zayn. Not just because he’s his best friend, but because he’s more than that.

So yes, he’s fallen in love with his best friend. How dumb is that?

If he tells him and he feels the same way, then they’ll be together and everything will be swell. But what if they break up? What if they’re not meant for each other? Will they still be best friends? Or will they just be exes for the rest of their lives?

And what if he doesn’t feel the same way? They will never be able to go back to the way it was because even if they decide to stay friends, the weight of his confession will still loom over them. Or worse, Zayn will freak out and Harry will have to hide from him to avoid further humiliation, and they’ll ignore each other until they learn to live without the other.

So no, he doesn’t tell Zayn, even though his love for him grows exponentially every single day. He sets aside his feelings so he can be a better friend to Zayn because ultimately, that’s what’s most important.

Of course, somebody shows up to ruin everything because the universe refuses to do him a solid.

That somebody is a sunshine kind of girl with golden hair, legs for days, and an infectious smile. Her name is Gigi, and she was sent to this planet to kill him.

Zayn saw her one day and somehow, Harry just knew.

It would have been easy to hate Gigi if she wasn’t so nice. But she obviously adores Zayn, and she makes him laugh. Harry doesn’t even feel like a third wheel when they hang out together, because Gigi always makes sure that he doesn’t feel excluded.

One day, while he was waiting for Zayn after school, Gigi sat beside him on the floor in front of the student newspaper office.

“I really like him,” she almost whispered.

“I know,” he said without looking at her, terrified that she’ll discover his secret.

“I won’t do anything to hurt him, I promise.”

“That’s good.”

Gigi nudged him on the shoulder to get him to look at her. “You’re not going to threaten to kill me if I break his heart?”

“Nah,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not really into violence. I’ll just take your word for it.”

“I like you, too, you know,” Gigi said, hugging her knees. “I want us to be friends.”

And even though he hated to admit it, Harry told her, without any hint of disdain: “We already are.”

Gigi flashed him a bright smile and leaned her head on his shoulder. That’s how Zayn found them, which pleased him so much that he treated them to all the ice cream they could eat.

Harry went home with a broken heart and a stomachache.

They still hung out together, but the frequency began to dwindle as the days progressed. It was his choice to make himself scarce to allow them to spend more time together without his intrusion. Besides, it’s better than witnessing the simple touches and quiet intimacy that cause an actual physical pain in his chest.

So now, Harry hangs out with other kids in his class and goes on dates. Zayn’s the first one he ever loved, and he wanted to see if his heart could learn to love someone else. He goes out with girls and boys to figure out who he is and what he wants, while also trying to fill the Zayn-shaped hole in his heart.

That night, he comes home from a date with Xander and finds Zayn sitting on his front porch. Harry hasn’t seen him in so long that his sudden presence startles him.

“Hey,” Harry says instead of “I miss you.” He slowly walks towards Zayn and sits beside him on the front porch. It saddens him that this is the first time in a long while that he’s ever been near Zayn, and the first thing he says to him is a measly and impersonal _hey_.

“Was that-” Zayn begins to say, but he cuts himself off when he sees Harry nod.

“The guy from the yard sale? Yes.”

“Where did he take you?”

“His house. He cooked.”

“Did you have fun?”

This is the part where Harry’s supposed to say, “It would have been more fun if you were there,” like he always does when Zayn asks if he had a good time with somebody else. Instead, he nods in response.

“That’s good,” Zayn mutters quietly.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks in an almost whisper.

Zayn shrugs his shoulders in that effortlessly cool way that always drives Harry mad. “I missed you.”

Harry’s heart wakes up from its stupor and bounces around in its ribcage. “Missed you, too.”

Zayn gives him a small smile before it disappears all too suddenly.

Harry wants to touch him. He wants to place a gentle hand on his shoulder or rub comforting circles against his hand. Instead, he keeps his hands on his lap as he asks him what’s wrong.

“I didn’t know-”

“I didn’t either.”

“You should have-”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders instead of giving a proper reply.

“It must have been-”

“It was.”

“Did you tell any-”

“No, I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Not even-”

“No. At least, not yet.”

“Okay.”

They don’t say anything for a while. The silence, though unbearable, is oddly comforting.

“You want to sleep over?” Harry asks in a rare moment of bravery.

Zayn chews on his bottom lip. “I can’t. I still have homework to finish.”

“Okay,” Harry says, not even bothering to hide his disappointment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Zayn asks.

Harry nods. They stand up at the same time and smile at each other. Harry leans forward as if going in for a hug, but stops himself and plays with the hem of his shirt instead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Zayn shake his head sadly. Zayn looks heartbroken so Harry steps forward to wrap his arms around him. Harry hears Zayn sigh as the tension in his muscles dissipate. They stay like that for five minutes, five hours, five days – Harry doesn’t care. All he knows is that he’s missed his best friend and he never wants to let go.

Eventually, they pull away from each other, much to Harry’s dismay.

Zayn gives him a small wave as he starts to leave, but then he stops in his tracks and turns back to face Harry. “I’m not just anyone.”

“I know that,” Harry says.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? Anything at all.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Zayn places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re allowed to keep things for yourself and decide when you want to talk about them and with whom you want to share them.”

Harry nods as he bites on his bottom lip.

“I just wanted you to keep me in mind when you’re ready to talk about things.”

Harry nods again because he doesn’t know what to say that could encapsulate exactly what he’s been feeling for the past few months.

“You’re my best friend, Harry.” Zayn waits for Harry to say something in response but he never does. With a sigh, Zayn squeezes his shoulder then says goodbye as he starts to walk away.

“Zayn?” Harry calls out, waiting for Zayn to turn around before adding, “You’re my best friend.”

The corners of Zayn's mouth slowly curve up into a soft smile. “I know.”

“Can I sleep over at your house tomorrow?”

The smile Harry gets in return is what soothes the ache in his chest and what he plays on loop in his head as he falls into a dreamless sleep.

 

13.

“Are you ever going to open the door?” Harry asks, just as he did the first time he came over Zayn’s house.

Zayn exhales a laugh as he turns the knob to enter his old room. Stepping into it is like being transported to another world. It’s strange yet oddly comforting at the same time to be in the same place that used to be his refuge when he was younger.

Harry looks around the room with his hands on his hips. “Wow. It’s exactly as I remember it.”

“I know.”

“Does it feel weird?”

“A little bit.”

“Good weird?”

“Yep.”

This is the first time that Zayn’s been home in a while. He and Harry worked as interns at a fashion magazine based in New York City over the summer. Then Zayn was offered an internship at a publishing house, which took up most of his time.

They only have another year left in college, which seems absurd because it still feels like they’ve just moved out a few months ago. He likes his new apartment, his new friends, and the life he’s chosen for himself. But nothing compares to the feeling of going back home and seeing his family after months of just talking to them online or on the phone.

It’s especially nice that Harry gets to spend the holidays with Zayn and his family. Usually he’s off to faraway places with his obnoxiously rich friends or having a quiet celebration with his mom and sister. It feels right that Harry’s here, even though they have to tell a few lies to survive the holidays.

Zayn stands next to Harry, who’s busy looking through his closet. He grabs his shoulders, turns Harry around to face him, and wraps his arms around him. “Thanks for coming home with me.”

“Of course,” Harry says as he holds him tighter. “I’m happy to be here.”

They pull away just as Zayn starts to yawn.

“Tired?” Harry asks.

“A little bit,” Zayn replies, as he walks over to his bed. He lifts the edge of the bedspread, crawls under the covers, and heaves a sigh of relief as his head sinks into the pillow. Zayn looks up to find Harry staring at him with a fond expression on his face. He pats the space beside him, and Harry laughs as he plops down next to him on the bed.

Harry rolls to his side then grabs Zayn’s hand to pull it around him and press it over his chest. “Goodnight, Zayn.”

“Night, Harry.”

 

14.

Harry wakes up first, as he usually does.

He must have moved at some point because he’s now on his other side, facing Zayn. Sunlight streaming through the windows dances around Zayn’s golden skin and makes him look soft, which is almost too much for Harry to handle. Zayn’s all sharp angles and smoldering stares and cool edge when he’s awake, but he’s a marshmallow with long eyelashes and a pretty pink pout when asleep. He’s very confusing and detrimental to Harry’s entire wellbeing.

And while he’d much rather be tangled in Zayn’s sheets on Zayn’s bed, Harry knows that he needs to get up before things get even more complicated.

He heads to the bathroom and takes a cold shower to wake himself up and clear his head. It does nothing to help him because the lingering smell of Zayn’s shampoo and body wash makes his mind wander down a dangerous path. He thinks of water droplets dripping from raven hair, broad shoulders and a tiny waist, and a smattering of dark ink across gleaming gold skin. Harry sighs and leans his forehead against the cold tile.

Zayn’s awake and smiling at him when he comes back to the room with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hey,” he hears Zayn say, his voice deeper and raspier than usual. His sleep-rumpled face and disheveled hair make him look adorable, which is a little annoying.

“Morning.” Harry walks over to the bed and sits on the edge. “You’re up early.”

Zayn stretches languorously. “Felt you get up.” His mouth curves into a mischievous grin before he sits up to grab his hands and pull Harry on top of him.

Harry yelps in surprise as he lands with a heavy thud, hitting Zayn’s chin with his forehead. “Fuck, are you okay? Also, ow!”

Zayn laughs as he pushes Harry off him. He rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow to look at Harry. “You smell nice.”

Harry remembers his half-naked state and keeps a firm grip on the towel around his waist. “I used your stuff.” Zayn’s still smiling at him and Harry doesn’t know what to make of it, so he changes the subject. “You hungry?”

“Yeah.” Zayn rubs his face with his hand as he sits up to lean against the headboard. “You want to go to the diner? Just like old times?”

Harry nods enthusiastically, his mouth watering at the thought of his favorite caramel banana walnut pancakes.

“Okay. Let me take a shower first.” Zayn gets up and yawns as he stretches his arms over his head. “I’ll meet you downstairs, yeah?”

Harry heaves a sigh after Zayn leaves to head to the bathroom. He takes a few seconds to compose himself before he gets up to put on some clothes.

Zayn’s parents are already awake and having breakfast in the kitchen when Harry goes downstairs.

“Good morning!” He smiles at Yaser and gives Trisha a kiss on the cheek.

“You want some breakfast, love?” Trisha asks, already reaching for an empty plate.

“No, thank you,” Harry says. “Zayn wants to go to the diner for old time’s sake.”

“Zayn’s awake?” Yaser asks incredulously. “That’s new.”

Harry chuckles. “Surprised me, too.”

“Did you sleep well?” Trisha asks.

Harry nods. “I did, thank you.”

Trisha pats his cheek lovingly. “I’m so happy that you’re here. We’ve missed our favorite boys.”

Harry beams at her. “We’ve missed you, too. And I’m happy to be here.”

“Zayn’s treating you well?” Yaser asks.

“Always,” Harry assures him.

“That’s good,” Yaser says. “I like the two of you together.”

“Me, too,” Trisha agrees, which makes Harry want to burst with happiness.

He’s in the middle of telling them one of his stories when Zayn appears with squinty eyes, damp hair, and a soft smile aimed at his parents.

They’re seated at their usual booth at the local diner a few minutes later, with Zayn inhaling his coffee and Harry happily eating his pancakes.

“You okay there?” Harry asks with a smirk. Zayn grunts in response. “You didn’t have to wake up this early. We could have just come here for lunch.”

Zayn props his elbow on the table and drops his chin into his palm. “I wanted to stop by for breakfast. Like we used to do in high school.”

“I’ve missed this place.”

“Me, too.”

“These pancakes are so good.”

“I know.”

“Want some?”

Zayn nods, his eyes still closed. Harry snorts as he spears his pancakes with his fork and nudges Zayn with his foot to wake him up. Zayn glares at him but opens his mouth anyway to eat the forkful of pancake that Harry offers.

“Zayn, you could-” Harry’s words catch abruptly in his throat as he sees someone over Zayn’s shoulder.

“Harry?” Zayn asks, his voice laced with worry. He turns in his seat and gasps as he sees Gigi in all her statuesque glory.

Gigi gives them a little wave before walking towards their booth. “Hi.”

Harry sneaks a glance at Zayn, who is rendered motionless by this surprising turn of events. He smiles at Gigi and gestures for her to join them. “Hi. Home for the holidays?”

Gigi nods as she slides into Zayn’s side of the booth. “You, too?”

“Yeah,” Harry tells her. “But I’m staying at Zayn’s.”

“That’s nice.” Gigi bites her lip before turning to her right to face Zayn. “Is it okay that I’m here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Zayn stammers before clearing his throat. “Of course. How are you?”

Gigi smiles at him. “I’m good. Actually, can I talk to you?” She turns to face Harry. “Is it okay? It’ll only be for a minute.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Harry says, standing up. “Take your time.” He gulps down his tea then turns to Zayn. “I’ll be outside.”

Harry goes out and takes a deep breath. He peers through the window and sees that Gigi has moved to the seat across from Zayn. Harry’s horrible at reading lips so he doesn’t attempt to decipher what they’re saying. He does notice their hands clasped tightly together on top of the table.

_It could mean a lot of things_ , Harry thinks as he heads over to the grocery store right across from the diner. Maybe they’re just apologizing to each other for the way their relationship ended. Or maybe they’re finally saying a proper goodbye. One other possibility makes Harry want to hurl obscenities at the universe, which still refuses to do him a solid after all this time.

Harry grabs a basket and wanders aimlessly around the store. He fills it with horrible things he knows will give him a reprieve. Harry pays for his purchases then slowly crosses the street to head back to the diner. He finds Zayn and Gigi waiting for him outside with smiles on their faces.

“You went shopping?” Zayn asks with a curious glance at his paper bag of groceries.

“Just bought a few things I needed,” he says, clutching his bag tightly against his chest. “Everything good?”

“Yes, thank you.” Gigi steps forward and leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

No matter how many times Gigi crushes his heart, Harry still can’t find it in him to hate her. He gives her a warm smile and a one-armed hug as he greets her a “Merry Christmas.”

“I had a feeling you two would end up together,” Gigi whispers in his ear, which makes Harry gasp in surprise. She pulls away then flashes him a knowing smirk. “I’ll see you around, okay?” Gigi turns to give Zayn a hug. “Say hello to everyone for me.”

“I will,” Zayn assures her.

Gigi smiles and gives them a small wave before walking away.

Harry nudges Zayn on the shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “She just wanted to talk.”

“About?” Harry asks, not even bothering to mask his impatience.

“Us,” Zayn replies. “How we’re doing in school, what our plans are, how we ended things.”

“And?”

“We talked about our families and school and prospective jobs. Do you know that she’s been scouted at a café?” Zayn chuckles as he shakes his head. “So yeah, she’s thinking about maybe getting into modeling.”

“Suits her,” Harry mutters.

“That’s what I told her.”

“Anything else?”

“She asked about you.”

“What about me?”

“Just wondered how you’re doing.”

“What did you tell her?

“That you’re still the same mess but with slightly better fashion sense.”

“Hey!”

“I told her you’re doing really well,” Zayn says. “And to look out for your photographs one day at all the famous galleries.”

“Oh.” Harry looks down to hide his blush. “So you and-”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“And you are-”

“I’m fine.”

“And there’s no-”

“Uh-huh.”

“Zayn.”

“Harry.” Zayn grabs the paper bag from him and inspects its contents. “Giant chocolate bars, gargantuan amounts of candy, three pints of ice cream, a travel magazine, and a bunch of bananas?”

“What?” Harry snatches it back and hugs it to his chest.

Zayn shrugs. “It’s like a care package for the broken-hearted.”

Harry chuckles nervously. “What? No! A banana for a broken heart? That’s absurd. I was thinking of having a slumber party with your sisters, that’s all.”

Zayn raises a perfect eyebrow at him before walking towards the direction of his house. Harry falls into step beside him.

 

7.

“This is it.” Harry flashes him a tired, lopsided smile as he sprawls on his bedroom floor. “We fucking did it, Zayn.”

They’ve just graduated high school and gotten drunk on jagerbombs – which were gross, but Harry wanted to try them, so of course Zayn obliged – with the rest of their fellow graduates at the local bar they used to sneak in with their fake IDs.

Early in the morning, they’ll have a joint celebratory breakfast with Harry’s family and his, but Zayn’s still too keyed up to sleep. They should really finish packing their stuff because they’re flying to Amsterdam tomorrow, but they’re too happily drunk to care.

It’s the first stop in their European backpacking trip, which they’ve been saving up for most of their lives. This summer was going to be their last hurrah before college starts. Just him and Harry.

Harry’s taking his camera with him, hoping to practice and get some good shots to build up his portfolio. Meanwhile, Zayn hopes that traveling will give him plenty of inspiration to write.

Zayn tugs his boots off then crawls to the empty spot next to Harry on the floor. He reaches out to poke him on the cheek. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m awake,” Harry says, batting his hand away. He rolls to his side to face Zayn. “We did it, Zayn.”

Zayn chuckles. “Yes, we did.”

Harry stares at him for a few seconds before cupping his cheek with his hand. “Why are your eyes sad?”

“Gigi and I broke up,” Zayn whispers.

“What!” Harry sits up suddenly then hits the back of his head on the edge of Zayn’s bed. “Ow, fuck.”

“You okay?” Zayn asks, sitting up and hugging his knees.

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine. I mean, it hasn’t fully sunk in yet.”

“Why did you break up?” Harry asks after a beat of silence.

Zayn shrugs. “She wants a clean slate for college. I get it, though. Long-distance relationships don’t usually work anyway.”

“Were you willing to do the long-distance thing?”

“Yeah. But it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“Did you tell her that?”

“I did. But her mind was already made up.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that we’re leaving tomorrow then.” Harry grabs his hand and pulls him down so his head is resting on Harry’s lap. “It’ll help clear your head and give you breathing space.”

“Not sure about that when you’ll be stuck with me 24/7,” Zayn jokes to lighten the mood.

Harry exhales a laugh. “I’ll give you five minutes everyday to brood.”

“That’s generous.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’ll have the best time,” Harry assures him as he plays with his hair. “We’ve been planning this trip since we were kids. Can you believe that it’s finally happening?”

“I know.” Zayn looks up and pokes the dimple on Harry’s cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

“Just you and me.”

“To infinity and beyond.”

In a few hours, the sun will come up and they’ll have to face the magnificent chaos of their families together. So they stay like that for a little while, basking in each other’s presence and enjoying the early morning quiet before the rest of the world wakes up.

 

15.

Christmas Eve with the Malik family means having a big dinner party with all of their relatives under one roof. There’s no decorated tree or stockings hung by the chimney or a chimney, for that matter. It’s just one big party with a ton of food, a few presents, and a multitude of beautiful people who love Zayn as much as Harry does.

The morning was spent cooking and rearranging furniture to make more room in the house for the rest of the Maliks. Harry enlisted the help of Zayn’s sisters for his desserts because he likes to show off his baking skills. He also helped with some of Trisha’s dishes because he misses his mom and he likes spending time with Trisha.

Guests begin showing up around seven, with Harry in charge of ushering them into the house. Everyone seems to be pleased with Harry’s presence, and the fact fills him with unbridled glee. For the most part, Harry sticks close to Zayn as they answer the standard questions throughout the evening. After a while, he gives Zayn a kiss on the cheek then leaves to play with Zayn’s little cousins in the living room.

He’s in the middle of talking to one of Zayn’s aunts when he glances around the room and spots Zayn. He catches Zayn’s eye and raises an eyebrow at him in question. Zayn idly gestures towards the door then quietly slips outside.

Harry murmurs his apologies as he makes his way to the front door, stopping only to grab two glasses of wine. He finds Zayn sitting on one of the front steps, with a cigarette dangling between his lips. Harry plops down onto the step next to him and offers him a glass of wine. They look at each other as they clink their glasses in cheers.

“You okay?” Zayn asks. Harry nods as he takes a sip of his drink. “They love you in there.”

Harry smirks. “Of course they do.”

Zayn chuckles as he takes a last drag on his cigarette before crushing the butt under his heel.

Harry knows that Zayn always needs a little bit of time for himself, away from crowds of people and the thoughts in his head. So, he stays quiet and lets Zayn enjoy a few minutes of silence. Harry’s just happy that even when Zayn wants to be alone, he still wants Harry to be with him.

“Three of my aunts just asked me when we’re getting married,” Zayn says out of the blue.

Harry chokes on his drink. “What?”

Zayn laughs and reaches out to wipe the corner of Harry’s mouth with his thumb. “I think they’re all just shocked that I finally brought a date over for the holidays.”

“What did you tell them?” Harry asks.

“Soon,” Zayn replies with a wink.

“Did I ever tell you how much I hate it when you say that?”

“Only about a hundred times.”

“You shouldn’t tease them, though,” Harry says. “They might expect to get a wedding invitation soon.”

Zayn chuckles. “I have to propose to you first before a wedding can happen.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Harry’s brain manages to conjure up images of Zayn getting down on one knee, Harry saying yes because of fucking course he would say yes, and the two of them getting married by the beach, in a garden, on a farm, in their backyard, or even on a sidewalk. Harry doesn’t care. He just wants to marry Zayn. _Wow, that sure escalated quickly._

“What if I want to propose?” Harry asks.

Zayn grins at him. “That’s fine. As long as you won’t do it during a flash mob.”

Harry giggles. “That would be a terrible idea.”

Zayn reaches out to brush away a stray curl from Harry’s forehead. Harry smiles at him before he scoots closer to lean his head against Zayn’s shoulder. They stay like that for a little while, lapsing into a companionable silence.

Eventually they hear a burst of laughter from behind the closed door, interrupting their quiet time and breaking the spell.

“We should probably go back,” Zayn says without moving an inch.

Before Harry could say anything in response, he hears the whistling intro to his ringtone. “Sorry.”

“Take it,” Zayn says, kissing Harry’s temple before he stands up. “I’ll meet you in there, yeah?”

Harry nods. “Remember Zayn: ‘Home is wherever I’m with you.’”

Zayn laughs. “Yeah, yeah.”

Harry waits for Zayn to enter the house and close the door before he answers the call.

_“So, how’s the party?”_ he hears Nick ask on the other end of the line.

“I’m dying,” Harry replies.

_“It’s that dull?”_

“No, the party’s lovely.”

_“What’s the matter then?”_

“I’m dead. I’m speaking to you from the grave.”

_“I thought you wanted to be cremated after watching all those early episodes of_ Supernatural _?”_

“Not the point, Nicholas.”

_“Excuse me-oh, hey Pig. Hello, love.”_

“How’s Pig doing?”

_“Fucking fantastic, thank you very much.”_

“That’s good.”

_“Are you good?”_

“No.”

_“What’s wrong?”_

Harry sighs dramatically.

_“Ah.”_

“I’m here, they love me, I love them, I love him, he loves me, but not like that.”

_“I did tell you this was a bad idea.”_

“But he needed my help. And I’m a masochist, apparently.”

_“So, what are you going to do?”_

“Smile and suffer quietly, as always.”

_“Or you could just tell him the truth.”_

“You know I can’t!”

_“He’s your best friend. He’ll be surprised, sure. But I hardly think he’ll be an asshole about it.”_

“He wouldn’t be. He’s not like that. But it’ll be looming over us forever. Things will be weird and awkward, and we’ll see each other less to avoid being weird and awkward. Then before we know it, we’re no longer best friends but merely acquaintances.”

_“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen.”_

“You knew this about me.”

_“That’s true. But I still think you should tell him.”_

Harry takes another sip of his drink. “I’m just waiting for it to disappear completely.”

_“What?_

“My feelings.”

_“You’re waiting to fall out of love with him?”_

“Kind of. I’m trying to get some dirt on him while I’m here. See if I can find something that will turn me off so I can get rid of these feelings forever.”

Nick laughs. _“Oh, darling. I doubt that will ever happen. But good luck on your endeavors.”_

“You’re no help at all.”

_“You’re welcome. Say hello to Zayn for me.”_

“Give Pig a kiss for me.”

_“Will do. Bye, Harold. Oh, and Merry Christmas.”_

“Merry Christmas, Nicholas.”

Harry gulps down the rest of his drink then stands up to make his way back to the party. He spots Zayn by the kitchen with a few of his older cousins. Zayn must have sensed his presence because he turns to face him and tilts his head in question. Harry smiles to assure him that he’s fine, even though he most definitely isn’t.

 

8.

Zayn is sitting on the floor, with his back against the couch and his left leg outstretched, as Harry paints his toenails with green nail polish. He’s trying his damn hardest to focus on reading his notes from class, but nothing seems to register in his brain.

“Hey Zayn,” Harry begins, his eyes still trained on Zayn’s toes. “Remember that-”

“Yeah.”

“But then-”

Zayn snorts. “I know.”

“So, we should-”

“Most definitely.”

“I hate it when you do that!” Louis shouts from the kitchen.

“Hate what?” Niall asks as he makes his way towards the living room. He settles on the floor beside Zayn and places a big bowl of popcorn on his lap.

Louis joins them in the living room, carrying a six-pack of beer and a bucket of fried chicken. “That mind-reading thing they do so often.”

“Yeah, it’s creepy.” Niall reaches out to get a can of beer from Louis.

“No, it’s not!” Harry protests without looking up from his handiwork.

It’s the night before their final exams, and they’re doing everything they can to avoid studying. Today was supposed to be the day that they’ll get some serious work done. They’ve made a study space in the living room and brought out their books and notes from school, as well as all the school supplies they could ever need. Everyone even agreed to turn off their phones and electronic gadgets to get rid of distractions.

But then Harry announced that he’s going to bake them a pie, and Louis offered to go out and buy some food. Then Niall said he needed to take a long shower to feel refreshed, and Zayn started reading a comic book hidden inside his textbook.

So basically, they’re just stalling.

“God, I hate all this studying,” Louis whines as he sprawls on the floor.

“You haven’t done any studying,” Niall points out as he eats his fifth piece of fried chicken.

“We haven’t done any studying,” Harry says as he moves on to Zayn’s toes on his right foot.

Zayn chuckles as he closes his eyes and tries to drown out their bickering.

Harry found the ad online the day they arrived from Europe. It was for an apartment a few minutes away from campus with two recently vacated rooms. They went to check out the house and met Louis and Niall, who grilled them for almost an hour before welcoming them as their new roommates.

They moved in a couple of days later and soon developed a close friendship with Louis and Niall.

Louis is obnoxiously loud and prickly, but he’s brutally honest and loyal to a fault. Niall’s just a fucking ray of sunshine, and he’s ready to lend an ear or a shoulder whenever anyone needs it.

They’ve been living in the same apartment for three years now, and they’ve stuck together through everything. Zayn went from having only one friend in the world to having three. He knows he’s lucky, mostly because Louis never lets him forget it.

Zayn opens his eyes to find Harry painting his own toenails with pink nail polish, Niall chugging his beer like a pro, and Louis drawing on his arm with multicolored markers.

“Fuck, how is it midnight already?” Louis complains as he gets up to open another can of beer.

Niall stretches his arms over his head as he yawns. “Time flies when you’re procrastinating.”

“Nick says he’ll stop by later with pizza,” Harry says.

“What time?” Louis asks.

Harry shrugs. “We turned off our phones, remember?”

“Fuck, I’m so sleepy.” Niall stands up and jumps around to wake himself up. “But I need to ace this exam.”

“You want to go out, run a few laps?” Louis stands up and does a little bit of stretching.

Zayn exhales a laugh. “You really don’t want to study, do you?”

Louis glares at him before grabbing his running shoes from his room. Niall follows suit, and then they’re both out of the house a few minutes later.

Harry crawls towards Zayn and rests his head on his lap. Zayn’s hand automatically reaches out to play with Harry’s curls.

“You don’t want to study either?” Zayn asks him. Harry juts out his bottom lip in response. “Fine,” Zayn says with a laugh.

They stay like that for a while, reveling in the quiet before Louis and Niall come back. In a few hours, they’ll start cramming for their exams, forgo sleep, and survive on nothing but caffeine and desperation.

But for now, it’s just him and Harry, just as it has always been. Just as it always will be.

 

16.

A few minutes before midnight, Harry sneaks into Zayn’s room and calls his mom. She’s spending the holidays with her friends in Greece, while Gemma’s off with her boyfriend in Paris.

_“Hi, love.”_

“Hi, Mom. How are you?”

_“I’m good. The girls say hello.”_

“Say hi to them for me.” Harry sits down on the edge of the bed. “There’s a big party here with all of Zayn’s relatives.”

_“How’s Zayn?”_

“He’s good. Still the same nerd we know and love.”

_“Remember when I visited you in your apartment all those years ago?”_

“When I got sick?”

_“And Zayn took care of you and never left your side. He took care of me, too, because he didn’t want me to get sick.”_

“He’s always been like that.” Harry picks up the framed photo of him and Zayn on the bedside table.

_“I know you’d trust him with your life. And I do, too.”_

“You’d trust Zayn with your life?” Harry chuckles. “Mom, are you drunk?”

_“No, I’d trust him with yours.”_

“Oh.”

_“You’re always so good to each other. And I know you’ll be good for each other.”_

“Try telling him that,” Harry mutters under his breath.

_“What did you say?”_

“Nothing.”

_“I will always be grateful for that beautiful boy.”_

“Me, too.” Harry puts the picture frame back on the table and swings his legs over the bed. He pushes with his hands until his back is against the headboard. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

_“Merry Christmas, baby.”_

“I miss you.”

_“I miss you, too.”_

“Have fun with the girls, okay?”

_“You know I will. Give my love to Zayn and his family.”_

“Love you.”

_“Love you.”_

Harry slides down until his head hits the pillow and he’s lying on his back on the bed. The door swings open and Zayn pokes his head in with a smile on his face. “There you are.”

He feels a sudden surge of warmth in the pit of his stomach as Zayn walks towards him. “I talked to my mom.”

Zayn plops down on the empty spot next to him on the bed. “How is she?”

“She’s having a blast with the girls. She says hello, by the way.”

Zayn rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow. “You okay?”

Harry nods. “I just miss her.”

“I know. But I’m here, though.”

Harry turns his whole body to face Zayn, accidentally grazing his leg as he does so. Zayn smiles as he reaches out to tangle his hand in Harry’s hair.

Something in him settles as he looks at Zayn, whose smile is enough to power the whole city and whose eyes sparkle like those characters in all the anime shows he made Harry watch. Zayn’s touch is so gentle that it makes Harry want to weep with joy or frustration or both.

Harry wants to be brave. He wants to trace every inch of his skin with his fingertips, press his mouth against his throat, feel his smile against his lips. Harry wants a little bit of courage to let go of his feelings for Zayn. His friendship is the most precious thing in the world for him, and he refuses to do anything to ruin it.

So, Harry tries everyday to be brave. Just enough to love Zayn without any expectations. Just enough to be his friend.

Harry reaches out to cup Zayn’s cheek, but his eyes dart towards his wristwatch and notices the time. It’s a few minutes past midnight, and he’s with his most favorite person in the entire world. “Merry Christmas, Zayn.”

Zayn grabs Harry’s outstretched hand and places it gently over his chest. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

 

17.

They lapse into silence, as is their wont.

Harry looks as though he’s on the cusp of telling him something, but he bites his lip and averts his gaze before Zayn could ask him about it. Slowly, Harry sits up and Zayn loosens his grip on his hand.

“They’re probably looking for us,” Harry says without looking at him.

Zayn rolls onto his back and sighs. “Yeah.”

Harry stands up and heads to the door. “I’ll meet you downstairs, yeah?”

Before Zayn could answer, Harry slips out of his room and gently closes the door behind him.

After a few minutes of wondering what the hell happened, Zayn makes his way back to the party. He finds Harry in the kitchen, talking animatedly with two of his aunts. As if sensing his presence, Harry looks up and motions for Zayn to come closer when he sees him.

Zayn pours himself a glass of red wine before joining them in the kitchen. He gives his aunts a kiss on the cheek before standing next to Harry, who automatically wraps his arm around him. His fingers get caught on the hem of Zayn’s shirt and end up slipping underneath, landing on a patch of bare skin on Zayn’s hip.

Later, as he excuses himself to smoke on the front porch, he remembers Harry’s hand against his skin and shivers at the memory of it. How easily it fit on the curve of his hip, like it belonged there. How his touch was warm and comforting, like a cup of his favorite tea on a shitty day. How the sensation still lingered long after Harry pulled away. How Zayn misses it.

He hears the door swing open and turns around to see his mom smiling at him.

“I knew I’d find you here,” she says, as she takes a seat next to him. “Everything okay?”

Zayn nods. “Just needed a break.” He takes a last drag on his cigarette then exhales a puff of smoke to his other side, away from his mom and her disapproving look. Zayn gives her a sheepish smile as he crushes the cigarette butt on his heel.

They sit there in silence for a few minutes before his mom says, “I’m glad you and Harry worked it out.”

Zayn looks at her questioningly.

“I know it was annoying that I kept introducing you to my friends’ daughters and setting you up on blind dates.” Trisha chuckles as Zayn rolls his eyes at her. “But I figured that if I introduced you to all these people, you’d find a connection with at least one of them.” She sighs. “I’m sorry I meddled and went overboard. But I’m your mother, and I hate the thought of you being lonely and alone.”

“I’m not, though,” Zayn assures her.

Trisha smiles. “I know. Because in walked Harry and suddenly you have a friend for life.”

Zayn snorts. “I didn’t have a choice. He just waltzed in and never left.”

“He’s such a good boy, and he’s always there for you. It made me happy that you found each other even without my help.” Trisha places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “And you know I loved Gigi – we all did – and you made each other so happy. But-” Trisha pauses and flashes him a smile before she continues, “-there was always a part of me that knew that you and Harry would end up together.”

Zayn gapes at his mom in disbelief.

“It’s every mother’s wish for her children to be happy. And I can see that you are.”

“I-”

His mom eyes him with a smirk, as if she knows about the thoughts swirling around in his head. “I’m glad you found your person. Even if it took you years to realize it.” She gives him another knowing smirk before she kisses him lightly on the cheek and slips quietly back into the house.

“Fuck,” Zayn mutters to himself. He lights another cigarette as he ponders over this charming new development.

 

6.

“What if my intelligence is just implied depth because I read books and quote shit? What if I’m not really smart but just incredibly pretentious?” Zayn asks as he scans the books on Harry’s shelf, sliding his hands along the spines.

It’s three in the morning on a Thursday – perfect for an unscheduled existential crisis. They’ve just spent the entire night studying for their final exams in Harry’s room, and their only motivation was their impending high school graduation.

“Shut up.” Harry closes his textbook and falls back onto his bed. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

Zayn turns around to smile at him. “Thanks, babe.”

“Besides, I’m the one who should be worried about the future,” Harry says quietly.

Zayn narrows his eyes at him. “Why?”

Harry sighs. He’s been avoiding this subject for a long time now. “Photography, really?”

“You’re majoring in something you’re interested in because you love it and want to learn more about it.” Zayn sits on the edge of his bed and rubs comforting circles on his ankle. “What’s so bad about that?”

“The only photo I took that I was immensely proud of was the one of you.”

“You mean the stalker-y one?”

“I was appreciating your beauty!”

“Right.”

“That was a good photo. Even Mr. Adams said so.” Harry plays with the rings on his fingers to avoid Zayn’s gaze. “But I think it’s because you’re the model and not because I have stellar photography skills.”

Zayn pinches him on the leg.

“Ow!” Harry sits up to slap Zayn on the arm in retaliation. “What did you do that for?”

“You were being an idiot.”

“But I’m always an idiot.”

Zayn snorts. “That’s true.”

“You’re not, though,” Harry tells him. “You’re annoyingly smart. That’s one of the many things I like about you.”

“Well, you’re the most artsy fartsy person I know,” Zayn says, which makes Harry burst into laughter. “It’s not silly to pursue something you’re passionate about. Don’t let anyone dismiss your interests just because they don’t serve an economical purpose. You’re good at a lot of things, Harry. But if it’s photography that you want to focus on, then go for it.”

Harry ignores the fluttering in his chest and quickly changes the subject. “Pop quiz: ‘Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling.’ Do you know who said that?”

“Oscar Wilde,” Zayn replies without hesitation.

“Scotland’s national animal?”

“The unicorn.”

“Children’s author who wrote ‘A Boy Named Sue’ by Johnny Cash?”

“Shel Silverstein.”

“What causes goosebumps?”

“Contraction of the arrector pili muscles.”

“What do you call a group of pugs?”

“A grumble.”

“What is the ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything?”

“42.”

Harry grins at him. “See? Annoyingly smart, you are.”

“Thanks, Yoda.” Zayn moves to sit next to him on the bed.

“You know what I’ve discovered today while procrastinating?” Harry asks.

Zayn chuckles as he shakes his head. “What?”

“I’ve read that it’s a tradition in Japan for boys to give away the second button from the top of their school uniforms to confess their feelings to another person.”

“Why the second button?”

“Because it’s the one that’s closest to the heart.”

“That’s clever.”

“And sweet.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better.”

 

18.

Upon further reflection, Zayn concluded that he is most definitely fucked.

After his enlightening conversation with his mom, Zayn went back to the party and consciously avoided Harry. He waited for everyone to leave before he told his mom that he was exhausted and headed straight to bed. Zayn felt like an asshole, but he needed time to process everything.

Why did his mom have to point it out and mess with his head? How did he not notice it after all these years? Why was he dumb enough to fall in love with his best friend and not even realize it?

Harry quietly slipped into his room and under the covers after about an hour of Zayn staring at the ceiling. A few seconds later, he heard Harry whisper “Goodnight, Zayn” before he turned on his side and drifted off to sleep.

Usually, Zayn would move closer and sling his arm around Harry’s chest. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it always will be until one of them says otherwise. This time, Zayn hesitated. He sighed in frustration then rolled over onto his side, facing the other way and leaving a few inches of space between them.

Sharing the same space has always been a part of their friendship, whether it be on a bed or on a couch or an empty spot on the floor or even against a wall. Even when they were younger, they’ve always gravitated towards each other and ended up huddled together.

Zayn has always felt calm around Harry. It didn’t matter if they were just in the same room or if they woke up next to each other. Harry’s proximity was familiar and comforting. It made him feel safe.

But now, with the weight of his revelation resting heavily on his chest, Zayn feels confused, uncertain, and absolutely terrified.

He woke up a few hours before Harry, which was a first, and decided to mull over his situation. Zayn knew he couldn’t ignore Harry forever, so he decided to squash whatever feelings he has for him and act like nothing happened.

But sometimes, he would look across the room at Harry and think, “Fuck, I love him.” He’d see a stray curl hanging down Harry’s forehead, and he’d think about reaching out to brush it away from his face. Harry would gesture animatedly with his hands and he’d think about kissing his ringed fingers. He’d see him smile and all he’d think about is how it would feel against his lips.

Zayn knows that he’s heading down a dangerous path. He knows that he should stop before he ruins the best thing that has ever happened to him. But fuck, he just really wants to kiss him, to touch him, to hold onto him and never let go.

A burst of laughter from the kitchen wakes him up from his daze. It’s New Year’s Eve, and everyone’s gathered around in their house to celebrate. Zayn catches Harry’s eye across the crowded room and feels a sudden surge of reassurance as Harry smiles at him.

That’s it. That’s all he wants. That connection, that shared moment of stillness, that relief when you find each other in a sea of faces. There he is. That’s your person. And home is wherever you are with him.

But Harry deserves the world, and Zayn doesn’t think that he’s good enough for him.

So, he does whatever a lovesick fool does in this situation: Zayn takes out his phone from his back pocket and calls a friend.

_“Hello, you’ve reached the winter of our discontent,”_ he hears Louis say on the other end of the line.

Zayn exhales a laugh. “The girls are watching _Reality Bites_ again?”

_“Yes. Send help.”_ There’s a sound of a door opening and closing before Louis speaks again. _“So, what’s up?”_

“I’ve just realized something recently, and I don’t know what to do about it yet,” Zayn tells him.

_“Well go on, then. What is it?”_

“Promise not to tell anyone?”

_“Just spit it out.”_

“I’m in love with Harry.”

_“Okay, and?”_

“I said I’m in love with Harry.”

_“I heard you.”_

“Well?”

_“Well, what?”_

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

_“Weren’t you always in love with Harry?”_

“What do you mean ‘always’?

_“You mean you’re just realizing this now?”_ Louis asks after a beat of silence.

Zayn sighs. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

He hears Louis laugh. _“Wow. Okay. So, what do you want to do?”_

“I don’t know. If I tell him, he might freak out and stop being friends with me. But if I don’t, it’d be like lying to him, and I hate lying to him. Either way, it’s going to ruin whatever we have and I won’t be able to fix it.”

_“Why are you so sure that you’d stop being friends if you tell him you love him?”_

“Because.”

_“He’s not an asshole, Zayn. In fact, he’s the most annoyingly nice person in the history of the universe. I don’t think he’ll make you feel bad about it.”_

“I know. But he’s my best friend. And I can’t lose him.”

_“You won’t. That limp noodle is probably just as in love with you as you are with him.”_

“I highly doubt it.”

Louis lets out an exasperated sigh. _“You’re both idiots.”_

“Thanks.”

_“How’s everyone?”_

“They’re good. It’s almost midnight so most of them are probably already drunk.”

_“And Harry?”_

“He’s running around the house with the little kids.”

Louis snorts. _“Of course he is.”_

“What about you?” Zayn asks.

_“We’re fine. We miss Mom, of course, but we’re fine.”_

“Give my love to everyone.”

_“I will. Smack Harry on the forehead for me, okay?”_

“Absolutely not.”

_“Happy New Year, Zayn.”_

“Happy New Year, Lou.”

Zayn hears everyone counting down as he ends the call. He slides his phone into his back pocket and leans against the wall. Zayn senses Harry’s presence before he sees him standing next to him.

Harry bumps his shoulder against Zayn’s and gives him a lopsided smile. “You good?”

Zayn nods. “You?”

At that moment, he hears everyone shout out their greetings and usher in the new year with hugs and kisses.

Harry leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Better now. Happy New Year, Zayn.”

Before he could overthink it, Zayn steps forward and lightly presses his lips against Harry’s. The kiss lasts for only a second, but it’s enough to set himself on fire.

Fraught with guilt, he avoids Harry’s gaze and looks down at his shoes as he steps away. His breath catches as Harry pulls him back in, stumbling a little and stepping on his toes as he moves closer. There’s something glittering behind Harry’s eyes, but Zayn can’t figure out what it is. At least not right now, when all he could focus on is Harry’s slightly parted lips – full and pink, taunting and teasing.

Fueled by desire and the kind of impulse that needs to be followed, Zayn cups the back of Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to kiss him again. This time, Harry kisses him back with one hand slowly sliding into his hair. It feels new but also familiar, different yet comforting, and it just feels so fucking good that Zayn almost wants to cry.

Harry must realize what they’re doing because he pulls back to stop themselves from going further. Zayn keeps his eyes shut as they pull apart, relishing the moment before it gets taken away.

Slowly, he looks up to steal a glance at Harry. There’s a question behind his eyes that Zayn doesn’t know how to answer just yet. He meets Harry’s steady gaze and flashes him a small smile. Harry steps forward and leans in as if to say something, but then he stops himself. Zayn closes the distance and wraps his arms tightly around him. “Happy New Year, Harry.”

He waits for his response with bated breath, and his heart settles when he feels Harry’s smile against his neck. They stay still in their own space as the rest of the world erupts into a flurry of activity.

Soon, they’ll go back and things will never be the same. But for now, they have this. Shared space, a moment of stillness, just him and Harry.

 

19.

“So this is it, huh?” Harry asks, staring straight ahead as he drives.

“I guess so,” Zayn replies as he turns to his side and looks through his window.

“I’m gonna miss them,” Harry says quietly.

Zayn turns to face him with a reassuring smile. “I’m sure they already miss you.”

Harry smiles back before he asks, “Do you think they bought it?”

“I think so,” Zayn says, turning back to his side to stare at something that’s far more interesting than Harry. “I’m not sure about Mom, though.”

“Oh.” Harry sneaks a glance at Zayn, who’s still not looking at him. “Well, I had fun.”

Zayn reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Me, too.”

“What are we going to do if they decide to visit us?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to tell them that we broke up? So we wouldn’t have to pretend anymore?”

Harry hates to admit how much that stings. “Oh.”

“We can tell them that we decided to remain friends even though we didn’t work out because our friendship is far more important,” Zayn says without even sparing a glance at Harry.

“Okay,” Harry mumbles. He didn’t think that their pretend relationship would last forever, but he didn’t expect that it would hurt this much to hear Zayn say it.

The silence in the car is deafening and a little bit uncomfortable, which makes Harry want to cry.

Something in the air shifted after they kissed. It was just a New Year’s Eve kiss, he’s sure of it. But for a fleeting moment, their lips touched, and no one can take that away from him.

Zayn’s mere presence is overwhelming, and it takes a lot of self-restraint on Harry’s part to be around him everyday. So when Zayn made the first move, it took everything within him not to push him up against the wall and kiss the living daylights out of him. Harry needed to be the one to stop because it means more to him than he’s willing to admit. Zayn will probably just chalk it up to an age-old tradition or a momentary lapse of judgement, but Harry doesn’t care. It happened, and it was over too soon, but the memory of it still lingers.

Harry turns on the radio and selects a random station to fill the unbearable silence. He catches the tail end of a song before it fades and a new one begins. Harry hears the opening notes to his favorite Stevie Wonder song, which makes him think of that one summer with Zayn.

He sneaks a glance to his right and is startled to find Zayn staring at him. Zayn averts his gaze for a second before looking back up at Harry, his lips curving into a soft smile.

Harry knows that Zayn is thinking of that same summer many years ago, when all they did was drive around and listen to his Stevie Wonder record on loop. It fills Harry with a giddy kind of relief that quelled the chaos in his head.

He smiles back at Zayn for a moment before he looks away. Harry hums along to the song as he drives, pressing his fingers to his lips to remember.

 

9.

Zayn lets out an exasperated sigh as he throws himself onto the couch.

“You okay?” Harry asks. He’s situated on the other end of the couch, reading a book that looks like something he stole from Zayn’s shelf.

“No,” he replies.

Harry marks his place in the book with a receipt before he closes it. “Come on, then,” he says as he motions for Zayn to move closer and rest his head on his lap.

Zayn closes his eyes as Harry plays with his hair. “Mom called.”

“Everything okay at home?”

“Yeah. Mom was just pestering me about being single again. She has a long list of people she wants to set me up with when I go home for the holidays.”

Harry keeps quiet but continues to play with Zayn’s hair as he listens to him whine.

“I know she does it out of love, but I’m really not interested in dating anyone right now.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean?”

“I kind of told her that I was already dating someone just to get her off my case.”

“What did she say?”

“She demanded that I bring him over to the house for the holidays.”

“Him?”

Zayn sits up and turns to face Harry with an apologetic look on his face. “I kind of told her I was dating you.”

“Me!” Harry exclaims, making Zayn flinch.

“I’m sorry! I panicked, and you were the first one I thought of so I just went with it.”

Harry just stares at him in confusion.

“Are you mad?” Zayn asks.

“No,” Harry replies.

“It’s okay if you are,” Zayn mutters. “I’m mad at myself.”

“You told your mom that we’re dating?” Harry asks and Zayn nods in response. “How did she react?”

“She was ecstatic. Mumbled something about how she was right and shit.”

Harry looks up at him with wide eyes. “Really?”

Zayn shrugs. “I think she was just pleased to hear that I’m no longer alone.”

“Hey, you’re never alone.”

“I know. I think she was just worried that I’d swear off dating for good after Gigi.”

Harry reaches out to trace circles on Zayn’s palm with his finger. “You kind of did, though. You haven’t really been out with anyone since then. Well, aside from that girl in Barcelona and the guy in Florence.”

Zayn exhales a laugh. “Oh, God. Don’t remind me.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes before he hears Harry say, “Okay.”

“Hm?”

“I’m coming home with you for the holidays.”

“Why?”

Harry shrugs. “You need my help.”

“Really?” Zayn asks and Harry nods in response. Zayn leans forward and throws his arms around Harry. “Ugh, I’m so sorry! But also, thank you!”

Harry lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. “So, when do we leave?”

 

20.

Zayn fell asleep halfway through the trip, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. He plugged in his phone and sang along to every song on his playlist to distract himself and delay the inevitable. It seemed to work for a little while, but eventually, the chaos in his brain drowned out the music.

It’s not even rejection that Harry fears. He’s always known that Zayn doesn’t feel the same way, and he’s learned to live with it. Harry will take whatever he can get because he loves this boy and losing him is not an option.

But that kiss roused hope in his chest, made it crawl out from its hideaway and kindled a fire within him. And isn’t that the most dangerous thing? To believe in infinite possibilities regardless of the outcome? To hold on to a glimmer even if it perpetuates his misery?

Harry spent years trying to quash his feelings for Zayn, knowing full well that they’re unrequited. But that kiss turned an unequivocal _no_ to a definite _maybe_ , which makes Harry simultaneously confused and thrilled.

He thinks about it as he parks the car and reluctantly wakes Zayn. He mulls it over as they lug their bags up the stairs and into the house. He forgets about it as Louis and Niall tackle him into a hug. He remembers it when Zayn says goodnight.

Zayn disappears into his room almost immediately after, leaving Harry with Louis and Niall to answer their questions.

Hours pass and Harry is still awake, staring at the fake plastic stars on his ceiling. He thinks that maybe warm milk can help, so he gets up and tiptoes to the kitchen. Harry gasps in alarm as he slams against someone, who turns out to be Zayn in all his half-naked glory.

Zayn chuckles softly, grabbing Harry by the hips to steady him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, pressing a hand to his heart. “You okay?”

“Just tired. You?”

“Can’t sleep. Was thinking of drinking some warm milk.”

“Might help.” Zayn chews on his lip as they lapse into silence. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but then he shakes his head slightly and says nothing.

Harry busies himself with preparing his drink, ignoring the thudding in his chest.

“I wanted to thank you for coming home with me,” Zayn finally says, breaking the silence. “It meant a lot to me that you were there.”

Harry turns around to face him. “I was happy to be there with you and your 400 relatives.”

Zayn exhales a laugh. “All 400 of them loved you.”

Harry looks down at his feet as his face breaks into a stupidly wide grin.

“If you need anything, all you have to do is ask. You know that, right?”

“I do.”

Zayn steps forward to give him a hug. “Love you.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat. They say it to each other all the time, but there’s something different about hearing it now. Before he could say it back, Zayn pulls away and disappears back into his room. Harry leans against the counter and remembers to exhale.

Knowing he won’t be able to sleep any time soon, Harry grabs his unpacked bags and drives to Nick’s house in the middle of the night.

Nick lets him in without saying a word and gives him an expensive bottle of wine adorned with a shiny red bow. “Merry Christmas, Harold.”

Harry hugs him before demanding another bottle of wine for them to share. They spend the rest of the night getting drunk on cheap wine as they watch _The Golden Girls_ and resolutely avoid talking about Zayn.

He wakes up around noon with a headache and a craving for pancakes. Harry’s standing in the kitchen, making breakfast for lunch, when Nick comes out of his room looking like death. He offers him a mug of tea, which Nick accepts gratefully.

His phone buzzes on the counter, and Harry finishes scooping up pancakes onto a plate before checking the message. He sees that it’s from Zayn, and Harry doesn’t even bother hiding his smile as he reads it.

“Look at you,” Nick teases. “So, what did he say?”

Harry hits send before he says, “Just asked where I am.”

Nick shakes his head. “Judging from your stupid smile, one would assume that he asked if you wanted to go steady with him or some corny shit like that."

Harry sticks his tongue out at him. He slides a plate of pancakes in Nick’s direction before he sits down to eat. Harry checks his phone every few minutes and gets crabbier every time he receives a message that isn’t from Zayn.

He spends the rest of the day slumped on the couch, staring longingly at the door while _The Golden Girls_ plays on screen. Obviously frustrated with Harry’s crabby mood, Nick grabs the remote to turn off the TV before smacking him on the forehead.

“Ow!” Harry exclaims.

“You needed that,” Nick says as he sits beside him on the couch. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Harry sighs. “We kissed.”

“What?” Nick asks, his eyes wide. “When?”

“New Year’s Eve,” he replies, smiling at the memory. “Midnight.”

“Cliché,” Nick says with a laugh before hastily adding, “-but romantic,” when he sees Harry narrow his eyes at him. “Who kissed who?”

“Whom,” Harry corrects, which earns him a glare from Nick. “Does it matter?”

“Yes! If you kissed him first, we need to talk about your lack of self-control. But if it was Zayn, well, what does it mean?”

“I have no idea.”

“Do you think he’s been pining after you all this time? Maybe the kiss made him realize his feelings. Or maybe he was just curious?”

“Stop, you’re making my head hurt.”

“What are you going to do?” Nick asks.

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh. “Hide out here?”

“For how long?”

“Indefinitely.”

“You’re just going to avoid him forever?”

Harry shrugs.

Nick shakes his head as he turns the TV back on and continues watching _The Golden Girls_.

“I miss him,” Harry says quietly.

Nick doesn’t say anything. He just waits patiently for Harry to continue.

“It hasn’t even been a full day yet and I already miss him. Isn’t that dumb?”

“No, it’s not,” Nick assures him.

Harry rests his head on Nick’s shoulder. “I keep expecting him to burst through the door and dramatically confess his feelings to me.”

“Now, that’s dumb,” Nick comments, which makes Harry laugh.

“I’ve been with a lot of people, but I’ve only ever had a real connection with just one,” Harry says. “What if I won’t meet anyone else that I can connect with like that? What if it’s just him?”

“Then you’re fucked.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Is that so bad, though? At least you have that kind of connection with someone. Most people don’t even have that and spend years looking for it in all the wrong places with all the wrong people. I mean, I surely don’t have that with anyone.”

“You have it with Pig.”

“That is the saddest yet sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Look, anyone can see that there’s this weird magnetic pull between you two,” Nick tells him. “You’re best friends. Nothing can change that. Not even your embarrassing love confession, which I assume you’ve already prepared for in your head. If you end up together, then that’s great. But if you don’t, then you can hide out here as long as you like.”

Harry slaps him on the stomach.

“That hurt!”

“You hurt me first!”

“Actually, that’s Zayn.” Harry glares at him, which just makes Nick laugh. “Seriously, though. You won’t know anything unless you talk to him.”

Harry pouts before he rests his head back on Nick’s shoulder. “Fine. One more episode?”

“You got it.”

True to his word, Harry comes home after finishing one more episode of _The Golden Girls_. The place is empty when he arrives, much to his disappointment.

Harry goes to check if Zayn’s in his room, knocking on the door just to be sure. When he finds that Zayn’s not in there either, he plops down on Zayn’s bed and thinks of what to do next. Harry slides his hand under the pillow, which smells like Zayn and makes him miss him even more.

His hand brushes against something underneath and he lifts the pillow to see what it is. Harry finds Zayn’s battered copy of _Persuasion_ , which was the first thing they’ve ever talked about on that fateful day in high school.

He leafs through the pages to see Zayn’s familiar scrawls on the margins. Something slides out as he turns another page, and Harry sees that it’s the receipt he used to scribble down his number and email address when he and Zayn first met.

Harry’s still smiling when his eyes land on an underlined passage: _“My idea of good company, Mr. Elliot, is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.”_

He gasps when he notices one word written on the margin: _Harry_.

 

21.

Zayn wakes up at noon, stretching languorously before heading to the bathroom to take a hot shower. He finds Niall cooking in the kitchen, while Louis is hunched over a comic book on the counter.

“Morning,” he greets, as he steals Louis’s mug to drink his tea.

Niall turns around to flash him a bright smile. “You’re awake!”

Louis, on the other hand, greets him with a slap against his stomach. “Stop drinking my tea!”

“Harry’s still asleep?” Zayn asks. “It’s half past noon.”

“We haven’t seen him since this morning,” Niall says.

Zayn walks towards Harry’s room to check if he’s awake but is disappointed when he finds it empty. He grabs his phone and sends Harry a text to ask where he is.

“Maybe he went running,” Niall says.

“At noon?” Louis counters.

Niall shrugs. “Maybe he got sidetracked. Met some housewives with cute babies or something.”

“He does tend to do that,” Louis says.

Zayn’s phone lights up with a message from Harry.

“Well?” Louis asks.

“He’s at Nick’s.” Zayn throws his phone on the counter and sits down to sulk. Louis and Niall know that he’s in a mood, so they talk about something else to fill the silence.

Niall coaxes him into watching the _Harry Potter_ films with them. He obliges because nobody can say no to Niall and his sunshine face and sunshine smile. Louis tells him they’ve already started yesterday so now they’re on the third one, which also happens to be Zayn’s favorite.

It’s after the fourth film that Louis asks him what’s wrong. He turns off the TV and pokes Zayn on the shoulder repeatedly.

“Fuck, Lou, stop,” Zayn says as he bats away Louis’s hand.

“Well?” Louis asks, not even bothering to hide his impatience.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Zayn replies as he crosses his arms defensively.

“Tell that to your face,” Louis comments.

“Did something happen between you and Harry?” Niall asks.

Zayn sighs. “I kind of kissed him.”

“What!”

“Kind of?”

“I kissed him,” Zayn says. “On New Year’s. It was just supposed to be a kiss at midnight. But then it wasn’t.” Zayn falls back on the couch, his head landing on Niall’s lap.

“Then what?” Niall asks.

“Nothing,” Louis answers for him. “They avoided it like the plague because they’re cowardly idiots.”

“Pretty much,” Zayn mutters. “Now he’s escaped to Nick’s house and I probably won’t see him again.”

Louis rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“He probably just needs time to process it,” Niall says.

“You love him, yeah?” Louis asks and Zayn nods in response. “So fucking tell him. Go after him. If you sit around waiting for him, you may never get your chance if he chooses not to come back.”

Zayn looks at Louis in alarm.

“I’m not saying he won’t come back,” Louis adds hastily. “But you owe him an explanation. You’re the one who kissed him and confused the hell out of him.”

“I know that,” Zayn mumbles.

Louis pokes him on the cheek. “So don’t leave him hanging. The poor bastard probably misses you already. You know he can’t stay away from you for more than a minute.”

“I miss him, too,” Zayn says quietly.

Niall brushes Zayn’s hair gently with his fingers. “You know we love you both, right? We just want you to be happy. If that means letting Louis kick you out of the house to go find Harry, then I’m all for it.”

Zayn chuckles. “He might not want to see me right now.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Louis says. “That boy’s gone for you. You’re just too stupid to notice.”

“Shut up,” Zayn says, ignoring the frantic thudding in his chest. “We’re best friends, that’s it.”

Louis sighs in frustration. “If you’re really best friends then you have to stop lying to him and tell him how you feel.”

They lapse into silence for a few seconds before Niall starts to speak again. “The first time Louis and I met you, we thought you two were together. You were so in sync and you were finishing each other’s sentences.”

Louis nods. “It was creepy as fuck.”

Niall ignores his comment and continues. “At some point, you ended up answering our questions while looking at each other. It’s like, you’ve forgotten that we were in the room with you.”

“Which would have been insulting if it wasn’t fucking funny,” Louis adds.

“Look, it’s obvious that you and Harry belong together on some level. Whether that means you’ll remain best friends or end up as lovers-” Niall waggles his eyebrows suggestively at Zayn, which makes him laugh. “-or something else. It’s rare what you two have. If you ignore it, you might miss out on something wonderful. And if you’re only doing that because you think you’re protecting Harry from getting hurt, then you’re letting him miss out on something that could be wonderful, too.”

Louis whistles. “Damn, Niall. When did you become so wise and poetic?”

“Since I found your book of Pablo Neruda poems that you hid under your bed,” Niall retorts.

“It’s Eleanor’s!” Louis exclaims.

Zayn laughs. “There’s no shame in admitting that you like poetry, Lou.”

“There’s no shame in admitting that I hate you both,” Louis mutters angrily.

“No, you don’t,” Niall says around the end of his laughter.

It’s quiet for a moment before Zayn finally sits up and heaves a sigh. “Okay.”

“You want me to drive you?” Niall asks.

Zayn shakes his head. “No, I’ll do it.”

“Can you drive me to El’s house?” Louis asks Niall.

Niall raises an eyebrow at him. “Zayn has plenty of poetry books on his shelf. You don’t need to go to El’s to steal hers.”

Louis grabs a throw pillow and chucks it at Niall’s head. “She told me last night that her roommates are having a party. I’d invite you, but you’re being mean to me right now.”

Niall laughs. “No, I’ll go. We should probably give these two some alone time, anyway.”

They all head to their rooms to get ready. Zayn plops down on his bed instead and stares at the ceiling. He hears the door open and sees Louis with a smug smile on his face.

“Niall! I told you he’s not ready yet!” Louis shouts. He walks towards the bed and sits on the edge. “Quit stalling, you idiot.”

Zayn rubs his face with his hand. “I’m nervous.”

“I know,” Louis says. “But you’re only prolonging your agony.”

Zayn sits up. “You’re right. You should go ahead, though. I promise I’ll go to Nick’s as soon as I’m ready.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him.

“I swear!”

“Fine. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Lou.”

Louis hugs him before he stands up. “Go get your boy.”

Zayn laughs. “Leave me alone.”

Louis walks out of his room and Zayn hears Niall yell “Bye!” before the two of them leave the house.

Zayn reluctantly stands up to change his clothes and fix his hair. When he’s done, he heads to Harry’s room and sits on his bed. Zayn finds a framed photo of him on Harry’s bedside table – the same one that Harry took before they met.

He’s not even looking at the camera. Harry just managed to capture his side profile with Zayn’s head tilted upwards and his eyes shut as if basking in the sun. He doesn’t understand what Harry likes about it so much, but even he can admit that it’s a good photograph.

Zayn feels a sharp pang in his chest as the possibility of losing Harry crosses his mind. He’s a fucking idiot, who fell in love with his best friend, but he won’t let that happen. He can’t lose Harry. He won’t. Zayn will take whatever Harry can give him and be happy with it. Harry barreled into his life like a fucking freight train, and Zayn has never stopped thanking the universe for that.

He grabs his keys and drives to Nick’s house to see Harry. But when he arrives, he finds a surprised Nick and no Harry in sight. Nick tells him that Harry went home to talk to him, so he drives as quickly as he can to catch him.

Zayn yanks the front door open when he gets home and heads straight to Harry’s room, which is still empty. He grabs his phone to check if Harry tried to call him or left any messages, but he finds nothing.

Frustrated and exhausted beyond belief, Zayn falls face first on Harry’s bed. Before he could overthink Harry’s absence, Zayn hears footsteps shuffling down the hallway. He springs into action, almost tripping on his feet as he rushes out of Harry’s bedroom.

“Oh.”

Zayn would know that voice anywhere, and hearing it immediately fills him with ease. He looks up to find Harry, his eyes wide in surprise. “Did you just arrive?”

Harry shakes his head. “I was on my way out to find you.”

“I went to Nick’s house to find you,” Zayn says, scratching the back of his neck. “But you were already gone when I arrived. And you weren’t in your room when I got home.”

Harry flashes him a sheepish grin. “I was actually in your room.”

Zayn laughs. “What were you doing in there?”

Harry shrugs. “I missed you.”

“Oh, babe.” Zayn walks over to Harry to wrap his arms around him. “I missed you, too.”

“I also found this,” Harry says as he pulls away to show him his old copy of _Persuasion_.

Zayn smiles. “Ah. The one that started it all.”

“Zayn-” Harry starts to say, but then he stops himself.

“What is it?” he asks, tucking Harry’s hair behind his ear.

Harry takes his hand and covers it with his own. “‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.’”

“Oh, God,” Zayn mutters, trying hard not to laugh.

“Shut up, I’m trying to remember,” Harry says. “‘I have loved none but you.’ Uh-”

Zayn suppresses a giggle. “Don’t think too much or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“‘You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others.’” Harry smiles triumphantly after reciting the entire line without a hitch. “‘Too good, too excellent creature!’”

Zayn gives in to his urge to laugh. “Oh, babe. That was brilliant. But you skipped a lot of lines.”

Harry shrugs. “I just picked out the most relevant ones.”

“Relevant to what?”

“To us.”

Zayn’s breath hitches. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I love you, Zayn,” Harry says without hesitation. “I have for a long time.”

“I-” Zayn starts to say something, but Harry cuts him off.

“Let me get it out first.”

“That’s what he said.”

Harry bursts into laughter. “Shut up. I’m trying to be serious.”

“Sorry.” Zayn mimes zipping his mouth shut.

“Okay.” Harry takes a deep breath. “So Johnny Cash was asked for his definition of paradise and do you know what he said? ‘This morning, with her, having coffee.’ Well, it’s the same for me.”

Zayn smiles at that, his face crinkled in hopeless endearment.

“I’m genuinely happy when I’m with you, Zayn,” Harry continues. “It doesn’t matter if we’re arguing about books or backpacking through Europe or watching _10 Things I Hate About You_ for the millionth time or sharing a mug of coffee at home because we’re broke as fuck. Just having you around makes me happy.”

Harry sighs as he squeezes Zayn’s hand. “And I know I should have told you sooner, but I couldn’t. I was terrified of what it would mean for us. But I’m ready now. If you only want to be friends, that’s okay. I love you, and nothing’s going to change that.”

“And if I want to be more than just friends?” Zayn asks.

Harry grins. “Well, then you’re going to have to kiss me again to seal the deal.”

Zayn lifts Harry’s hand to his lips to kiss the back of his knuckles. He steps forward to slide his hand into Harry’s hair before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him closer. Zayn looks up to see Harry with his eyes shut and his lips parted in anticipation. He smiles as he presses his mouth lightly against Harry’s, pulling away for a moment to hear Harry whine.

Harry grabs the lapels of Zayn’s jacket and kisses him, moaning softly as their tongues touch. Zayn brings a hand up to cup Harry’s face, his thumb lightly grazing his cheek. He breaks the kiss to say something, but Harry’s already leaning down to plant kisses on his neck, his throat, then back up to his chin, his jaw, the jut of his cheekbone, his eyelid, his nose, then back again to his mouth.

Zayn feels Harry’s smile against his lips before he pulls away. He waits for Harry to look at him before he says, “I love you.”

Harry’s whole face lights up as he smiles at him. “I love you.”

“I didn’t have a speech prepared because I was too busy driving around looking for you,” Zayn says, which makes Harry laugh. “But it’s fine, because all I ever wanted to say was that I love you. I don’t even know how it happened. I just knew.”

Harry wraps his arms tightly around Zayn. “Thank-fucking-Christ.”

Zayn exhales a laugh. “I also wanted to give you this.” He fishes out something from his chest pocket and hands it to Harry.

“Okay?” Harry says, confused. His eyes grow wide in realization before he checks Zayn’s shirt for any missing buttons.

“Second from the top, right?”

“Because it’s closest to the heart.”

“Told you I’d remember.”

“You’re such a sap.”

Zayn chuckles. “You know, I thought you were pissed at me for what happened on New Year’s. I was totally ready to serenade you like Heath Ledger did in _10 Things I Hate About You_. But then you started quoting Jane Austen, and then you blurted out your entire speech and saved me from making a fool of myself. So, thank you.”

“What?” Harry pulls away from the hug. “No, I want to see you do the song! Preferably with a hired marching band.”

“Sorry, babe,” Zayn says with a smug smile. “You had your chance.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at him. “I can still make you do that, though. Maybe not now. But someday, when you eventually piss me off.”

Zayn chuckles. “We’ll see.”

Harry leans in to kiss him again, just briefly, before he takes Zayn’s hand and drags him to his room.

“I was in here earlier,” Zayn says as he sits on Harry’s bed. “I saw your stalker-y photo again.”

Harry snorts. “It’s a good photo.”

“I know. I just don’t understand why it’s your favorite.”

“It’s not my favorite.”

“What?”

Harry bites his lip in thought. “Fine, I guess I can show you.” He opens the bottom drawer of his dresser and takes out a brown envelope. “Here.”

Zayn opens the flap and slides out a black-and-white photo of him, smiling at the camera.

“This was taken a few days after we met,” Harry says, as he takes a seat on the bed next to Zayn. “I got that by accident, I promise. I wasn’t stalking you. I was just fiddling with the camera and pointed it somewhere at random. But then there you were, leaning against a wall, looking all broody and mysterious. I was going to put the camera away, I swear. But then you turned around and smiled. So, I just took the photo and kept it for myself.”

“Why?”

“You looked beautiful. You always look beautiful. But you rarely smile in pictures, so this one is special. What were you looking at, anyway? Do you remember?”

“You.”

“What?” Harry asks with a gasp.

Zayn grins. “I saw a familiar mop of curls out of the corner of my eye, so I turned around and sure enough, there you were. I didn’t know you saw me. I just remember seeing you.”

Harry stares at him with wide eyes. “What?”

Zayn kisses him on the forehead. “The only reason I was smiling in that photo was because I was looking at you.”

Harry leans in to give him a soft kiss on the lips before tackling him into a hug, making them fall back on the bed as they laugh. He rests his head against Zayn’s chest as his finger traces the tree of veins on the inside of Zayn’s wrist. Zayn kisses the top of his head before he gently plays with Harry’s hair. They lapse into silence as they hold each other close, until eventually, they fall asleep.

 

1.

Harry finds him sitting on a bench under a tree, munching on an apple as he reads a thick book.

He looks just as beautiful as the day Harry first saw him – first day of high school, in English class, doodling on a notebook, and muttering correct answers under his breath. Harry followed him after school to ask for his name, but then he stopped and tilted his head upwards, as if soaking in the sun’s warm rays. Thanking his lucky stars that he was holding his camera, he took his photo and gasped at how beautiful he looked. Soft, and almost ethereal – a stark contrast to his edgy all-black outfit.

Harry would love to take his picture again. In fact, he’d happily dedicate an entire series to this impossibly beautiful boy. But alas, he’s here on a mission.

Earlier today, as he was walking out of English class, he found a battered copy of Jane Austen’s _Persuasion_ on the floor. He picked it up to see if there’s a name or an address so he can return it, but he only saw _Zayn_ scrawled on the bottom right corner of the front page.

Harry leafed through the pages and was horrified to see notes on the margins written in black ink. He doesn’t understand how anyone can be so careless with their books. Harry always keeps his neat and spotless, as if they’re brand new.

Still, he couldn’t help himself from reading some of the notes, which ranged from general comments to intelligent musings. Harry was intrigued. He loves books, and he loves talking about books, and he would very much like to meet this Zayn to berate him for defacing his book and maybe talk about it with him if he’s up for it.

Harry asked around if anybody knew someone named Zayn, and a girl with raven hair pointed towards the beautiful boy reading under a tree.

Now, Harry’s walking slowly towards him, taking his time to prepare his arguments in his head. He must sense his presence because he glances up from his book and looks at Harry questioningly.

“Are you Zayn?” Harry asks.

Zayn responds with a slight nod of the head.

“I’m Harry,” he says, gesturing towards the empty spot next to Zayn and asking him wordlessly if he could sit down. Zayn nods again. “I found your book.”

Zayn heaves a sigh of relief when he sees his book in Harry’s hand. “Thank fuck.” He takes it from Harry and places it gently on his lap. “Where did you find it?”

“On the floor. It must have fallen out from your bag while you were leaving.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a faint tug at the corner of Zayn’s mouth, like an almost smile that he’s not yet ready to unfurl. Harry would very much like to be on the receiving end of Zayn’s unfurled smile. But first-

“Why do you write on your books?” Harry asks, surprising himself with the absence of a reprimanding tone that he initially planned.

Zayn shrugs. “I understand better when I write things down. Do you write on your books, too?”

“I would never!” Harry exclaims.

Zayn laughs. “Okay.”

“Is _Persuasion_ your favorite Austen?” Harry asks him.

“Yeah, I think so,” Zayn replies.

“Why?”

“I like that it’s about silence and second chances.”

“And the power of persuasion,” Harry chimes in with a cheeky grin.

Zayn snorts. “That, too. And I like Anne Elliot more than any other Jane Austen character.”

“Really? Mine’s Elizabeth Bennet.”

“I think it’s mostly because I can relate to Anne somehow.”

“How so?”

Zayn shrugs in lieu of an answer.

They lapse into a companionable silence. Harry usually hates it when it’s quiet, but somehow, he doesn’t hate it with Zayn.

Still, he needs to ask, “Why are you always alone?”

“I don’t have any friends,” Zayn says casually.

“Why?” Harry finds it baffling that no one wants to be friends with Zayn. A few minutes with him and Harry already wants to invite him to his house so they can talk more about books.

Zayn doesn’t say anything. He just glances down at his book and traces the front cover with his finger.

“I’ll be your friend,” Harry tells him.

Zayn looks at him curiously. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart, and you like books, and I like you.”

“Okay.”

Harry beams at him, thrilled to have made a new friend. He rummages around his bag to find something to write on, settling on a random receipt tucked inside the front pocket. He scribbles down his phone number and email address then hands it to Zayn.

Zayn inserts the receipt between the pages of _Persuasion_ then places the book carefully inside his bag.

“Now, what do you think of Shakespeare?” Harry asks. “Particularly the film adaptations. Are you a purist? Because some people don’t like anachronistic interpretations, but I love Baz Luhrmann’s _Romeo + Juliet_. It’s brilliant, don’t you think so? And don’t get me started on _10 Things I Hate About You_. Because I can spend days just talking about it.”

Harry pauses his monologue when he notices Zayn staring at him. His eyes are sparkling like a fucking cartoon character and his tongue is tucked behind his teeth as he grins.

“What?” he asks.

Zayn shakes his head. “I like you, too.”

Harry beams at him, his eyes practically disappearing and his cheeks hurting from the size of his grin. He doesn’t want to make it weird, though, so he averts his gaze and launches into another monologue detailing his love for _10 Things I Hate About You_.

Zayn, wonderfully, listens to every word.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you wish to cry over these beautiful idiots, fangirl over talented zarry authors, discuss music and stories and writing, or just talk about random things, send me a note at https://smoke-flowers.tumblr.com and I’ll reply. I promise.


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